


Submerged

by LostInEntropy



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Demons, Developing Friendship, Developing Relationship, M/M, Mentions of Death, Mentions of Violence, Owari no Seraph based supernatural, Vampires, basically random OnS concepts thrown in, many liberties, no association with Owari no Seraph plot, owari no seraph au, post apocalyptic, technicalities, the only thing really taken from OnS are the walls and demon contracts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-28
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2018-11-05 19:09:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 26,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11019720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostInEntropy/pseuds/LostInEntropy
Summary: If humanity is broken, Yuuri wants to fight, to prove he's worth more than people give him credit for.The world might praise those with amazing fighting skills, those that can cut a monster down with barely there effort, but how should Yuuri react when one of the world's most loved champions wants to join his disjointed team that he only recently abandoned?{Owari no Seraph/Seraph of the End AU}





	1. By Nature's Design

**Author's Note:**

> Let's try this.

_I do not own Yuri!!! on Ice, nor do I own Owari no Seraph_  
_I have no beta_  
_This is also being posted on FanFiction.net_  
_Thank you_

 

* * *

 

     In a world of continuous chaos and distress, where learning to fight was as necessary as eating to survive, it was easy to resort to the only way humanity seemed to understand: fighting one other.

The idea was premeditated, was a floating rumor that had horrified many, but when the tournaments started and when people saw the new form of entertainment, the public opinion changed rapidly.

People crowded the arenas, screamed their lungs out, and for once, it wasn’t out of pure terror, nor did it strike fear in the ones around them, instead they were joining in.  People began to forget the pain of devastation, began to love the idea of conflict, and began to be, for lack of a better word, distracted.

Every year, however, the competitors got younger and younger, and the few who did survive the last year seldom returned.

There were some who returned, the strongest and the craziest.

One in particular shined above them all, came back every tournament, and left only a trail of red and silver behind them.

 

* * *

 

_Chapter 1: By Nature's Design_

 

Emptiness. The clear consciousness that lingers just before waking is strange for Yuuri, however the sudden unbearable pounding in his head is even stranger, and he hates it even more.

Something starts to titter in his head, and suddenly the sound of his own heart beat in his ears intensifies and every hope of possible peace dies.

“ _Wake up, wake up.”_ Kiyoshi sings, becoming louder as time passes. Their voice bounces everywhere around him, inside him, and he really hopes that when he meets death, his demon isn’t brought along with him as a tied companion. 

It takes all his willpower to pry his eyes open, only to immediately squeeze them back shut when a bright light shines above him and makes him feel as though it’s shooting arrows straight into his brain.

He has no idea how he got in this predicament, as any form of cohesive thought is weighed down by the last remnants of sleep trying to claw him back under.

It takes a few measly moments of pain to slowly fade and the pound in his head begins to subside with it. He can hear a familiar voice now, one not a tease or within his head.

Worried words accompanied by his name are the first things he can comprehend. Once more he tries to see.

The stab of light is an assault, but he’s quick to divert his line of sight and the automatic squint of his eyes keeps the pain at bay long enough for him to recognize tattered walls and half-standing tables with medical supplies perched unceremoniously on their tray. It takes a moment for him to realize he’s in a makeshift hospital ward, somewhere seemingly familiar that he’s been in more times than he would like to admit and even more times than it says on his file.

Outside movement has his fighting instincts kicking in, but the voice from before and the pain in his limbs keeps him from trying to attack.

He notices one of his best friends’ faces, twisted in concern and relief.  The sudden overjoyed call of his name is nearly deafening and the crash of the other’s body is torture.

“Phichit-kun, _Phichit_ , I can’t—” Yuuri gasps out, more like a pitiful wheezing, but thankfully someone else pulls Phichit off of Yuuri’s weak body.

“Sorry Yuuri, we’ve just been waiting for so long.” Yuuko says.  Finally, Yuuri can see without a head of hair in his vision, and he can see Yuuko’s concerned face gazing at him with the care and happiness that she’s always seemed capable of.

Of course, Yuuri can also see how relieved Phichit looks, even while being held back by Yuuko.

Yuuri wants to lie and tell his best friends that it’s okay, but the opening of his mouth is useless when his throat’s dryness barely allows a “fine.”

A gentle hand is suddenly placed on his forehead, only to move hair out from his eyes. Mari looks down at him, dark bags under her eyes and that usual headband pulling her hair back.

He responds with a small, apologetic smile, feeling absolutely horrible with the pain he seems to have caused.

“What happened?” He tries to say while he pushes himself into a sitting position. He accepts the glass of liquid that Yuuko holds in front of him with careful and slow hands.

He takes a sip as they exchange a momentary look that seems to convey a whole conversation between them.

Mari looks at him and moves the stray strands of his bangs out of his eyes again, yet they fall right back in the way, “Do you remember anything?” She asks, and her voice carries a lot more worry than he deserves.

A shake of his head is his only answer and he tries to fight the blurry thought as he drinks the last bit of water. Nothing comes to mind except the pressure of anxiety that was holding and pushing him, the rush of adrenaline that was near intoxicating, the scream of battle that was clawing its way through him, and the cries of onlookers that was suffocating. However, nothing makes sense after that, all he remembers is running one second and then pain encased with darkness the next.

“Well…” Yuuko says, looking as uncomfortable as the others, “We don’t really know either, but there was a large cloud of black smoke that appeared during the battle.”

Phichit barely gives any time for thought before he’s sitting down on the side of the creaky bed.

“When it cleared everyone was down, mostly injured.” Phichit says slowly, eyes searching for Yuuri’s answer or maybe recognition that might make an appearance on his face, but he can’t remember anything else.

“More of them were dead, Yuuri.” Mari finishes.

He wishes he could ignore the manic laughter that his demon is forcing him to hear.

He begins to remember all the competitors that were supposed to be in that arena, the men and woman who were lined up and ready to put their lives on the line for their countries just for the sake of pride. So many had lost their lives, had suffered something no one probably saw coming yet was expecting, and he cannot even recall what happened to bring upon such casualties.

He has yet to discover who could have died and who survived, and already Kiyoshi is taunting him of thoughts he does not want to accept as his own, thoughts that are hoping for some competitor’s survival when all of them should still have had the chance of a fair fight. It was a battle of _Possession_ after all; no factors of _Manifestation_ should have taken place, yet a black fog had taken over and showed itself victorious against the unsuspecting fighters.

“We came as soon as we heard.” Yuuko explains, perhaps trying to change the conversation from something so heavy.

All too soon Yuuri feels a familiar sense of hate and Déjà vu.

There’s a sudden childish, joyful scream outside the door, and the sound is somewhat of a nice surprise from the ringing in his ears.

“Takeshi is still at the store, so I had to bring the triplets.”

The information brings a small smile to his face.

“Yuuri.” Yuuko says. The look on his friend’s face is uncertain and he knows what’s coming next is something he might not approve.

“Yuuri, we want you to take a break from the army.” She finally says, and the near pleading expression that she tries to hide behind forced determination is almost enough to shatter the initial argument that flared in his mind.

He can’t help how he automatically looks at Mari, wanting to see what she thinks reflected on her face, wanting to see even when he already knows where she stands on these matters. 

He knows that he should probably wait until the current trauma had calmed before continuing, as he can only guess that the surviving competitors are probably the ones getting the worst of the suspicions. However, to abandon his post as an officer of the demon army suddenly after the accident, could cause even worse consequences for him and those close to him.

“That’s what you want?” He asks finally.

“Only for a short while at least.” Yuuko continues, and with her delicate spoken words, she carefully sets a comforting hand on his forearm, “Yuuri, when we found you, your arm was broken.”

The untold explanation, “ _We don’t want you to over work yourself”_ is said through the sadly sweet look on her face, and the words would explain why his arm felt like it was thrown under a falling building when he woke up. However, with the demon contract flowing through his body, and considering that he can already move his fingers with only the slightest hint of trouble, he guesses it won’t be long until he can use it like it was never marred in the first place.

He wants to lament to them how unnecessary the idea might be, but a part of him is craves the possibility to be away from all the trauma that being a soldier carries, all the things that he hates as a day to day activity.

“I need to talk with Celestino about this.” Yuuri finally says, and the little slump of their shoulders as their relief prevailed over their unease caused a little warmth to take over his sunken heart.

 

* * *

 

It’s been a while since Yuuri has been outside without a soldier’s requirements inflicted upon him.  He can remember almost feeling grateful that everything compelled him to be distant from the outside world, left him inside a little area where everything was set out for him.

But now that he’s outside and sees everything that changed without him, he feels lost and a little left behind.

To see the old buildings once warped and collapsed in ruin, now rebuilt or redefined.  To see the once poor crowds that would walk by, barely living, suddenly be full of life and flooding the city streets. He felt that he could stand in the middle of the new side walk and stare for hours, trying to catch up with the shift of things, yet never come to terms with anything around him.

Yuuri feels as though it’s been a lifetime since he’s been in such a crowd. He almost thinks he’s regressing into the time before he ever signed up into the demon army.

If only he could remember where Yuuko’s shop was, though.

He remembers passing an old rotten corner shop the last time she was dragging him there. However, when he thought he reached that same corner, there was instead a small gift shop.  After that he really began to question his ideas of direction.

He just spent ten minutes on the same street, when he decided he would wait to see if his deductions were correct, as he really didn’t want to become anymore lost in the maze of unfamiliar structures.

He’s being pushed around by people passing by, clearly knowing where they’re headed, when he thinks he spots Yuuko walking out of a shop he’s seen about three times now.  They suddenly make eye contact and for once since he left the apartment, he’s reassured. 

He starts making his way towards her, seeing her do the same.

When he hears, “Yuuri,” behind him.

He’s in the process of turning around, when a hand grabs a hold of his forearm and he turns forward again to see Yuuko pulling him in the direction she had come from.

“You were supposed to be here twenty minutes ago.” Yuuko says, perhaps unintentionally making Yuuri feel bad for his lack of what seems to be common knowledge.

Yuuri bows his head in shame, saying a brief apology.  He tries to listen to the way she easily brushes it off, except he can’t help the self-criticism that bubbles in his mind or how his demon echoes it.

It’s when the door to the shop closes behind them, that the sounds of the crowd finally dies down and Yuuko’s words begin to make sense to him.

“They are such a handful,” At this she laughs, and Yuuri laughs a little with her, ashamed that he didn’t exactly hear what she was saying.

Thankfully, she doesn’t wait for him to say anything that might damage himself anymore, and says, “I’ll be right back.” Before she disappears behind the counter and into the back room. 

Alone, Yuuri finally breathes.

He tries to ignore the swirl of self-hate, and sees that even though the outside of the shop has basically changed entirely, from the inside it is almost exactly how it was when he first saw it.  All the furniture is new, but the placements and the weapons on display have barely changed, it may be because people not applying for the army are convinced they won’t need to protect themselves.

Yuuri really wonders how people haven’t learned yet, the Imperial Demon Army can only do so much.

There’s little sound of laughter coming from behind the dark counter, from which Yuuri can see the top of three heads. Before he can say anything, in near perfect sync, the triplet’s matching mischievous looks are peering over the wooden top.

“Yuuri! Is it true that you were one of the victims?”

“Do you really not remember anything?”

“Did you see who did it?”

Startled at the continuous stream of questions, Yuuri’s back makes collision with the door behind him.

It’s undeniable where they got their lively personalities, as they all ask with a certain shine in their eyes that resembles that of their mother. Yuuri just wishes that the three pairs of intent eyes weren’t on him.

“Girls!” Yuuko shouts, making an entrance from the back doorway, already apologizing rapidly over them.  Behind her follows a laughing Takeshi, who places a box on the counter.

“Sorry, they’re still hyped up from the event.” She says over their groans.

“They haven’t been able to calm down since.” Takeshi inputs, shaking his head in affectionate amusement.

Yuuri smiles, still on edge about the verbal attack, but he tries not to let it show as he steps away from the door he fell against. “It’s fine.” He says, looking away from the happy family, not used to such a domestic scene.

“Do you have what Mari requested?” He asks, a little uncomfortable.

“Oh, right.” Yuuko says, before digging into the box that her husband had set on the counter. “Sorry for the wait.”

“It’s fine.” He repeats, “What did she ask for anyway?” He is the tiniest bit curious.

All he knows about the item is that Mari needed him to leave without any previous explanation, before she pushed him out the door and said that it would be a good opportunity to get out anyway.

And while it’s true he didn’t leave the house for two weeks after moving in with her, he doesn’t really see why he has to do her tasks. Of course he would never argue, but he’s still annoyed from being stuck on the streets for longer than he wanted.

“She wanted, one second.“ She says, still digging in the box, however, before she can finish doing either, outside there is a loud banging sound and shouts.

Yuuri doesn’t think before he’s turning around, throwing the door open, and running outside to see what’s happening.

The people are yelling towards something he can’t see, and it’s only when he’s pushing through and trying to get deeper into the chaos that he begins to hear what they’re saying.

Many different forms of “Stop it!”  with, “Get him!”

It’s grating on his ears to have all the screaming around him, but years of something similar makes it close to bearable.  However, he could never get used to it.

The anger, the violence, or the uncontrollable consequences. He hates it.

That’s why he forces his way into the center.

He probably shouldn’t have jumped to the conclusion that something had broken through the walls; he should have understood that from the shouts. He is still shocked nonetheless, to see a man pushing another to the concrete, and punching without hesitation.

Yuuri’s momentary pause is over when the scene clicks to a clear understanding, and he pushes the rest of the way through in order to pull the attacker off of the other person. It takes less strength than he was anticipating, but it doesn’t stop the man from shouting obscene things and attempting to escape Yuuri’s hold so he can continue.

The attacker refuses to give up their angry shouts and harsh struggles. Yuuri tries to keep his hold around their arms, but they are certainly determined. “What is going on here?!” Yuuri can barely hear Yuuko’s voice over the struggle and the crowd’s shouts, which slowly becomes quiet now that the worst of it is over.

“Okay, okay!” They shout after a while, stopping their violent flails enough that Yuuri lets him go, and surprisingly they don’t immediately try to attack again.

Free from them in his line of view, Yuuri can see the one victimized being checked on by Yuuko, and by the way their face is splattered with blossoming shades of yellow and blue, Yuuri feels a wave of shame that he had hesitated.

Soon, Yuuko’s words of care to the man die down and she asks again, calmer this time, “What happened?”

However, instead of answering with any form of blame, they instead take a moment to wipe off their lip and says, “Nothing.”

At this the offender snorts, “Like hell it’s nothing. Killers are walking on the streets and he’s defending them.” The unmarred man yells, already on the cusp of stepping closer to the two of them before he holds himself back and wipes his hands on his pant legs.

Yuuri can hear how Yuuko reacts to the word “Killers”, whispering it again and glaring towards the man. Yuuri tries to keep his face tilted away from the scene, catching onto the topic of conversation.  He almost wants to slip back into the crowd, but at the same time wants to help get the injured man somewhere safe before there’s another fight.

“They are not all killers,” The man sitting on the ground says as they rub the blood from their cheek, “they are as much victims as the victimized were.”

The moment of holding back is abruptly over, as the man says, “Come here.” They go to launch at them again, and Yuuri has to quickly grab him, this time with the help of Takeshi.

“I got him,” Takeshi says suddenly, “Help Yuuko.”

The quick look in Takeshi’s eyes tells Yuuri that this is his chance to escape before any more damage can be dealt, and Yuuri takes it, as he loosens his hold and gives the bulk of the man’s force to Takeshi.

By the time he reaches the other two, the crowd around them seems to have finally dispersed back to the normal chaos, which gives Yuuri the first moment to breathe since the one man’s proclamation.

He helps Yuuko lift the man onto their feet and they are finally on their way to the shop when the sound of someone getting hit comes from behind them and suddenly the words “I’m not done,” are said before Yuuri’s shoulder is pulled. The offender stops in their pursuit.

Their eyes widening in realization and filling with reestablished hate.

“Katsuki Yuuri.”

Yuuri sees the intent register in their eyes before their fist makes contact.

 

* * *

 

“It’s amazing how obnoxious people are these days.” Mari says, tying her patched up scarf around her neck.

With his recent actions still playing in his mind, Yuuri can’t find it within himself to stay quiet this time. “I think I can see their reasoning.” And he can, he just wishes that they wouldn’t continue to surround the apartment building.

He wishes he was strong enough to not enter into a fight when such a fragile opinion is held on soldiers in the first place, but no, of course he had to.  Kiyoshi said once that it’s in his nature, and he really hoped that weren’t the case.

Just another misgiving that he has to accept about himself.

“Tch, as if they need your defending. It’s getting on my nerves.” Mari sighs tiredly, leaning against the doorframe as Yuuri continues to try and tie his shoes.

“It’s almost like someone famous is living here, it’s ridiculous.” She continues when he doesn’t reply.

It takes a while, but when he thinks he’s getting the hang of tying the shoes, Mari says “Are you going to tell me what happened yet?” And he ruins his entire progress.

He figures he would have to explain why he came back one day with the remnants of blood and cuts on his shirt, however, he really, foolishly, hoped that he wouldn’t have to bother anyone else with his failures.

“What did Yuuko give you?” He asks instead, stubbornly restarting his process.

Once again she sighs, this time more in acquiescence than annoyance, “I’ll tell you when later. Now hurry up, the triplets can tie their shows faster.” She mocks, turning around and leaving the room before he could have the chance to defend himself, not that he would.

He feels the guilt of withholding the truth from her, but he tries to tell himself that it’s because he’s weak that he can’t stop himself from getting into this sort of trouble, nothing else. And if he did tell her, she would give him that look she always does when she learns something of the like.  He doesn’t want to hurt her any more than she already has been.

Yuuri hears the front door open and feels a small, cool breeze coming from the adjacent room.  He might have ignored the sudden chill if it wasn’t for the shocked inhale, and soon followed by rapid foot falls quickly getting louder.  While his mind is already set on somehow getting to his sword from the room behind him, it’s too late as when he’s on the move to get up, a giant brown fluffy creature runs into the hallway and bounces onto his rising form, making him tumble to the floor with a startled oomph.

Of the things he was imagining, looking up to see a large poodle face in front of his own was certainly the farthest of all his thoughts, least of all when they start licking his face. He can’t stop himself from laughing at the action and the ridiculousness of the situation.

“Mari?” He says through the laughter, which makes it sound less urgent than he would have preferred, however he really is concerned.

He feels bad when he pushes the cute dog away, but doing so finally lets the adrenaline build up, because, why is there a dog in the apartment? Who is at the door? And why did Mari make that sound?

Immediately, he tries to stand up, only to basically trip over the untied shoes and the dog. “Sorry!” he shouts as he throws himself against the wall and then through the doorway, only to almost fall again what he sees who is standing just outside the front door.  Mari looks almost as confused as he feels.

And if everything seems to be working just perfectly for Yuuri today, Victor bloody Nikiforov looks as though he has been having the best month with the way he basically beams, somehow under all the winter gear. Whereas, Yuri Plisetsky looks as though he wants to kill everyone in sight, which, frankly, Yuuri feels he wouldn’t mind to be a casualty with the amount of panic and confusion coursing through him at this moment.

“Yuuri!” Victor almost shouts, and Yuuri is not sure how he can respond to hearing his name come from the living legend.  “Starting today, I’m going to be fighting alongside you. Let’s have some fun, okay?”

If the statement wasn’t enough for Yuuri to feel himself short circuit, the god damn wink that followed was enough for a mental break down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! And let me know if this is worth continuing, thanks.  
> Constructive criticism is welcomed.
> 
> PS. I've realized that typos are freaking everywhere.  
> I apologize for those but what can ya do.
> 
> PSS. Are y'all okay with swear words or should I just keep it as is. At least I don't think I used them, haha what.  
> Edit: Ya I'mma use it, just a forewarning ^~^


	2. Insight of a Weary Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He almost wishes that the people hating him so much would cause a bigger scene for his mind to take refuge in the chaos.

_I do not own Yuri!!! on Ice, nor do I own Owari no Seraph_  
_I have no beta_  
_This is also being posted on FanFiction.net_  
_Thank you_

* * *

 

_Chapter 2: Insight of a Weary Mind_

 

               Yuuri wonders how long one can sit in their bedroom and think about past mistakes before their mind is tired of the endless self-hate. It’s only when there’s continuous knocking and he’s opening the front door that those thoughts feel insignificant.

For a small while he actually thought perhaps the events of earlier were another fantasy his mind conjured, as an attempt to escape the bitter taste of reality he feels encased in. Seeing Victor and Yuri standing outside the door once again, he wonders how many other things he’s thought were imagined, but were actually factual.

“Ohayo, Yuuri.” Victor says with great cheer, somehow pulling of the Japanese greeting with his Russian accent. “How are you today?”

Yuuri can’t help that the only answer he makes is an uncomfortable “fine.” For a while he just stares at the two of them, wanting to escape but knowing that the thought is irrelevant. He tries to ease away the unsteady feeling in his chest with a “how are you?”  However, it’s not until after they answer with their own varying answers, that he’s horrified by his own words when he asks “would you like to come in?”

He regrets getting out of the bed this morning when Victor saunters in as if he was waiting for the invite, with Yuri following behind like it’s the last thing he could ever want.

It takes a moment before Yuuri can turn away from the closed door and see the two Russians assessing his sister’s living space without imagining himself jump over the fire escape.

It’s surely a surreal image to see Yuri Plisetsky and Victor Nikiforov in his sister’s apartment, one that he would have never imagined. But here he is, not knowing how to react as they look at parts of his sister and his life that he’s been reluctant to share with anyone. He can’t say that he particularly likes it.

He tries to give little explanations of a few things they ask about, but it’s hard when he is so unprepared.

Victor picks up one of the few items Yuuri and Mari were able to keep from their first home, when he suddenly says “Cute.” As though it’s the only natural response to seeing something so sacred to Yuuri.

Yuuri keeps tensely quiet as Yuri picks it up a second later.

And when Victor starts going into hallway towards the bedrooms Yuuri feels a particular sort of panic grip his throat and he quickly follows the two of them, “Um, would you two like some breakfast?”

“Maybe in a second.” Victor says before walking through the opened doorway of Yuuri’s bedroom and continuing his observations.

“You really have a shit home, Piggy.” Yuri says, standing in his thin leopard print hoodie, in winter no less, and looking at Yuuri’s life collections as if they were meaningless trinkets.

Yuuri silences his useless stuttering.

“Is this your demon blade?” Victor asks, pointing where Yuuri’s sword is leaning against the wall, untouched since Yuuri set it down that first night he moved into this apartment a month ago.

“Yes,” Yuuri mumbles.

It’s hard seeing it after all his attempts at avoiding it, but just having it in his sights drives a faded want for its presence to be in his hold.

For some reason unknown to Yuuri, it’s a lot less daunting task to watch them in his personal space than before.

 

* * *

 

He ties the weak strings on the shoes, finally used to the thin pieces of material that gave him such trouble the day before, as he was too accustomed to the sturdy rope like strings his army standard boots had. Finally finished, he hopes he’ll be able to leave the apartment before Victor and Yuri decide to show up.

He shrugs on his jacket before opening the front door, almost escaping when his sister’s tired voice says behind him “What do you want me to say to those two?”

Yuuri only takes a moment to answer, the rapid start of his heart on a frenzy from being caught impeding the clear consistency of his thoughts. “I went on a run.”

He closes the door behind him, trying not to think about the fact that as he runs down the stairs, he’s just running away from things he will have to face later.

He ignores the thoughts telling him how this situation is once in a lifetime and he should take it before it disappears, but the idea that this might actually be happening is too incomprehensible for him right now.

When he gets to the foot of the stairs and enters the lobby, it’s now that the commotion outside the complex actually is considered a problem. The muffled yells of “killers”, “murderers”, and for them to “end the fighting” are all that makes an impression through the torn up wall.

He takes a step back, fearing for a short second that they might see him through the walls, before quickly making his way to the back, figuring that if he can hear so many people, there will be more out through the front than he would be able to handle and that perhaps they would leave the back unattended to.

Exiting the back, the shouts sound clearer yet farther from him, and this way he can hear the other shouts that call for peace and understanding. He feels as though the phrases some of them are yelling are useless against the tide of popular opinion.

He doesn’t dwell on the thoughts and emotions inflicted from the words, instead moving through the passage way between the two buildings, pulling the hood of his jacket up before meeting the crowd head on, and attempts to hide in plain view as he makes his way from the crowd.

It’s difficult to push through the slowly thinning waves of people as he gains a farther distance from the center, but it only truly causes a problem to his mentality when the thought “ _Victor and Yuri must have it worse when they try to leave_ ” comes into his mind and the initial reason he was leaving surfaces again.

He almost wishes that the people hating him so much would cause a bigger scene for his mind to take refuge in the chaos.

 

* * *

 

It must be something subconscious that drives Yuuri’s body to find itself in a place that seems like an echo of what it once was: the worst part of the city. Where the people that once lived outside the city were piled together to be pitied like orphans and treated like miscreants.

But now that time has passed, the warped buildings are finally being repaired, to replace where the torment and abuse of scared children was once concentrated.  Maybe to forget the trauma, but Yuuri’s not sure how to feel about the situation.

He recognizes the sink in his chest, back wonders if it’s because he can clearly see where Yuuko, Takeshi, and him used to run and try to steal from the nearby stalls selling food, and, strangely, to see something so familiar brings a small peace to his confused mind.

He remembers when the tournaments began between the countries. More people were entering into the army, and the other people throughout the city became more accommodating to those that were losing more people they held dear. Not for the first time, Yuuri wonders if it was because they were allowing themselves to see the similarities between strangers that they were suddenly treated like humans.

And, not unlike others, it was around that time that Yuuri felt the pull to enter into the army, something that he can still feel today.

He questions if he ever lost it or if the negative thoughts of himself only overshadowed his resolve.

The feeling he felt the day prior floods his mind as he remembers how the temptation of his blade felt, like it was taunting him with how close he was to being reunited with everything he’s grown accustomed to. Not having it in his sights has let reason to torment him, knowing he wouldn’t want to cause a burden with his presence pulling everyone down. But, as much as he finds the inadequacies of himself as true, there’s also the part of himself that doesn’t want to let this rare chance go without even trying.

 

* * *

 

He gives two knocks on the chipping wooden door, waiting restlessly for someone to answer the door so he might speak his mind while it’s still fresh and resolute. But when Yuri Plisetsky opens the door Yuuri doesn’t know if the relief is such a bad thing.

“Is Victor here?” He asks, gripping onto the sleeve of his jacket as though it will keep his thoughts at bay.

Yuri looks him up and down, almost suspiciously. “He went to walk Makka.”

Yuuri finds this situation better, perhaps. “Can you tell him that I would like to take him up on his offer?”

At this Yuri squints, “I’m not your fucking messenger, but fine. Pig.”

Yuuri bows only slightly, saying a quick, “Thank you.”

He turns, lighter than he was on his way here. He mentally prepares himself for the discussion he will have to share with Mari, when Yuri suddenly says “You better be sure about this.”

Yuuri doesn’t answer, only continues down the stairs and to his sister’s own apartment.

 

* * *

 

Yuuri sits in his bedroom, a room he will soon hopefully be leaving. All of his decisions will only take effect if he is once again accepted into the army, but he tries to keep his hopes up. He won’t let himself believe there’s any other way for him but to reenter, and with his sword lying in his two hands, he really craves the satisfaction of being away from the heated crowds that tend to circle in the streets.

Too many times this past month has he wished for a way out, and it’s one of the first times that he actually feels he might escape the tension.

He can still feel the hug that Mari gave him after he told her his decision, and while he didn’t expect anything else but her support and half forced encouragement, there was still the small part of him that worried incessantly that he would have to deal with the look in her eyes that tore him apart inside out. The look that tell him he shouldn’t do something that could get him killed.

“ _Stay safe.”_ She had said during their hug, _“And if anything weird happens, come to me.”_

The shame that he felt from not answering her at the time still persists, but he couldn’t tell her otherwise.

He only hopes that with his absence, Mari and Yuuko won’t have to worry about him for a little while.

He grips the blade of his sword, barely considering the sharp edge as it dangerously presses against his skin. It’s strange to him, how the weapon being back in his hands brings a peace of mind. It’s almost a complete silence that consumes his rampant thoughts.

And for once in a long, long time, Yuuri is anticipating the days yet to be marked as his own.


	3. Foggy Clarity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Nothing else matters,' he tells himself, trying to ignore the excited chuckling of Kiyoshi. 'Everything can wait until after you are allowed back in.'

_I do not own Yuri!!! on Ice, nor do I own Owari no Seraph_  
_I have no beta_  
_This is also being posted on FanFiction.net_  
_Thank you_

* * *

 

_Chapter 3: Foggy Clarity_

 

               “Sorry, Sorry.” Yuuri says, fighting against the rushing breathes that pound his heart in his chest as he finally reaches Victor in front of the closed training room entrance.

“It’s fine, Yuuri.” He says, but Yuuri doubts it entirely when he’s about ten minutes late. He still can’t believe that he overslept.  “The crowds have been difficult the past few days, so I don’t blame you. Yuri is late too.”

The statement doesn’t make the most sense to Yuuri, as when he was leaving the complex he was able to leave through the front entrance because of how few people there were. He doesn’t speak about the inconsistency, but instead nods and apologizes once more.

“Anyway, are you ready, Yuuri?” Victor says while he straightens out his own jacket.

“Yes.” He says, not having to wait long, as right after he says this Victor is opening the door and walking in.

The faint yelling and sword clashing that Yuuri could hear from through the doors quickly dies once they enter. Yuuri suppresses the feeling of being out of place in the sudden silence, and instead focuses on walking towards Celestino.

“Yuuri!” Celestino yells, and when Yuuri is close enough he is embraced in a brief hug.

“Morning, Celestino.” He says once they are separated.

“Phichit told me that you were going to be coming back. It’s nice to know he wasn’t being overly hopeful again.”

“Sorry.” Yuuri looks away, uneased by the implications.

Celestino pats him on the shoulder once more before removing his hand, “It’s not a problem Yuuri, what’s important is that you are here now. And by the looks of things with a friend.”

“Ah, Yes.” Yuuri says, unsure how to continue that statement as Victor shakes Celestino’s hand.

“Victor Nikiforov,” he needlessly says as he removes his hand.

“Celestino Cialdini. I have to be honest, this was an unexpected surprise. First Yuuri returns and now I meet the great Victor Nikiforov. Yuuri, you’re not holding out on me are you?”

“No, no. Sorry.” Yuuri scratches his upper arm, feeling his resolve begin to shake and wanting to hide away in his room.

Celestino laughs suddenly, “Okay, okay. Enough joking around.” He looks between them for a second, “What’s the plan here, Yuuri?”

Yuuri begins to open his mouth but the sudden understanding that he doesn’t know the answer to that himself has his ill formed words die before they can escape. He should have thought about this before he came here, he has no idea what possible excuse he could use.

“Actually, Celestino.” Victor says, and when Celestino turns to Victor, so does Yuuri because he finds himself as lost as Celestino. “Yuuri was going to rejoin, it was my idea that I accompany him.”

Hearing Victor phrase it like that sends a certain shockwave to strike through Yuuri, a realization that Victor is joining with him by his own accord, but he’s unable to dwell on it before Celestino says, “You’re joining into the Japanese Demon Army?”

Yuuri finds that the disbelieving and almost patronizing tone of voice Celestino has while saying it doesn’t seem so ridiculous as Yuuri barely believes it himself.

“I am, and my companion Yuri Plisetsky will be joining along.”

The look that Celestino gives Victor is almost rejecting, but Yuuri has to wonder if it’s because of the fact that Victor Nikiforov would be actually saying this with a straight face and mean it, or to the fact that he would have to sign all the paperwork and deal with the consequences this would enact.

Yuuri swears the hurried beating of his heart is nearing life threatening before Celestino sighs, “I am taking entrance exams in two days, if you’re both sure of this you all will come then.”

“We’ll be there.” Victor answers, and that strange disbelieving feeling overtakes Yuuri’s mind tenfold.

 

* * *

 

Yuuri is getting ready, readjusting to the battle gear he has neglected for the a little over a month it seems. He tries to quell the anticipating thrill that is making his mind and heart uncooperative to his will.

He tries to hold onto the handle of his sword, hoping it will calm him, but knowing that he will be able to use it without judgement or fearful eyes doesn’t help his mood from swaying.

It’s behind him that he can hear the quibbling between Yuri and Phichit, one that he has been trying to keep a distance from.

“Why are you two even in Japan if you’re not Japanese.” Yuri says, and it’s a wonder to Yuuri how Phichit can laugh without care when a few minutes ago he was freaking out that the two Russians were even there in the first place.

“Yuri,” He finally says through his laughter, “you’re Russian.” Yuuri can hear the quiet “tsk” that is most likely from Yuri.

“We both came for the same reason.” Celestino explains, “How long has it been. Seven years, Yuuri?”

“Mm.” Yuuri says as his form of confirmation. He tries not to pay attention to the way the laughing seems to quickly disperse in forms of varying unease.

Yuuri can’t fight how he glances over his shoulder, only to see the distant looks in most of their eyes. He briefly wonders how the accident of seven years ago affects the Russians.

It doesn’t take long before the whistle signaling the beginning of the exams interrupts the situation and Yuri quickly exits the room while everyone else gets up from their seats on the benches.

Yuuri attempts to calm his conflicted thoughts as he straightens out his training gear.

 _Nothing else matters_ , he tells himself, trying to ignore the excited chuckling of Kiyoshi. _Everything can wait until after you are allowed back in._

With these thoughts driving him forward, he walks out of the back room and under the critiquing eyes that will decide his judgement.

 

* * *

 

The first step out of the arena Yuuri barely has time to calm his fight or flight instincts still pumping his blood before familiar black hair is in his vision and arms are surrounding him in a hug.

“Yuuri, that was amazing!” Phichit says, pulling away to look at him for a second before pulling him back into a hug. “I didn’t expect you to go all out. You usually wait until the last second before finishing off the horsemen of the apocalypse.”

He pats Phichit’s back, and for the first time he sees Victor looking at him, his hand to his chin and his eyes piercing as though in deep, calculating thought.

Yuuri forces himself to look away and at the floor, “I didn’t want to prolong it.”

And truthfully, he didn’t want to have the inevitable drawn out.

“Well done Yuuri!” Celestino says. Phichit pulls away as Celestino pats Yuuri’s back.  “I don’t know what happened in your time off, but it seems to have worked out.”

“Thank you, Celestino.” He can only hope that those words mean that he will be entered back into the army.

“Of course, that’s not the only reason I came to speak with you,” At this he moves his hand away and into his jean pockets, suddenly tense, “you’re expected to speak with a government representative when you’re ready.”

Yuuri can only guess what they would want to speak about. “Alright.”

 

* * *

 

“Take a seat, Yuuri-kun.” The woman says, not removing her eyes from the clipboard in her hands.

He takes the seat across from her, wondering how the way her hair is tightly pulled back could possibly be comfortable, and if the way her pristine nails tap on her board shows her annoyance of his tardiness. He hopes whatever it is this will be a quick conversation.

“We thought you wanted to leave.” She says, finishing off her words with a sharp sound of pen to paper before looking him in the eyes. He actually prefers if she would return to looking back down.

“It was a temporary decision, I probably should have clarified in my report—“

“So you had no prior knowledge that you would rejoin with the two Russian soldiers, Victor Nikiforov and Yuri Plisetsky?” His stuttering is cut off as she continues, “Or was it planned that you would join with them? Was it before or after you left the army?”

“I—after?” He falters, trying to sink into the uncomfortable cushions of the chair.

The way she writes something down on her paper should not be as horrifying to him as it is.  Something tells him he’ll like this interview a lot less than normal.

 

* * *

 

After hours of restless questions, he finally feels freedom when he walks out of the suffocating room. As it is required, he holds the door open for the woman, and thanks her for her time, though the truth is farther than any pleasantries could ever conceal.

It’s only when her sharp and assaulting eyes are no longer pointed at him and instead toward somewhere else that he finally sees Victor and Yuri standing in the hallway, talking with a soldier holding a pen and paper.

He doesn’t know how to translate the way Victor eyes could almost be a reflection of her critical gaze before he bows as accustomed in front a government official, but Yuuri can tell the shift in the atmosphere is no mere illusion. It doesn’t take long, until her clacking heels carry her far from him, down the torn halls, until he can almost pretend she was never there in the first place.


	4. Hallucinating Reality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He begins to think perhaps he should have lied and suffered the consequences.

_I do not own Yuri!!! on Ice, nor do I own Owari no Seraph_  
I have no beta  
This is also being posted on FanFiction.net  
Thank you

* * *

 

_Chapter 4: Hallucinating Reality_

 

A few days have passed since the entrance tests and interviews, and in the end, the two Russians decided to stay in their city apartment, while Yuuri decided to move back into the barracks.  This establishment is only allowed because, while it might cause trouble, it’s optional for the soldiers to choose if they want to live in the barracks or in the city, as long as they are reachable in a time of crisis.

Of course, it’s not exactly the same as how it was before Yuuri moved out.  He’s no longer Phichit’s roommate anymore, as that position was taken not long after he left, but luckily he ended up in a single bed room on the same hall. Although it’s smaller, Yuuri thinks it’s the best outcome.

The thing that bothers him most, however, is the fact that soon he will have to go on a mission that will test how well his new team works together.  It’s hard to think of, when he’s still trying to come to terms with the fact that this is all real, that this is not a continuous hallucination since they knocked on his sister’s door.

He’s actually quite scared of what this all means, doesn’t know how he’ll be able to handle the consequences. He doesn’t want to hold anyone back, but he’s already too far into the dream to escape.

He’s lost.

There’s a sharp knock on his bedroom door, causing a sharp panic in the otherwise silent room. It’s an optional half day, unless of course they are called on, nevertheless, the possibilities don’t sit well with Yuuri.

When he opens the door and sees Phichit, as bright and cheery as ever, Yuuri is more uneasy than confused.

He doesn’t have time to get a coherent syllable out before Phichit pushes into the room, ignoring Yuuri, as he pulls out one of the hanging winter jackets and takes a scarf off a nearby shelf and then he starts walking out the room.

“Phichit, what—“

Yuuri is halfway concluding that maybe his friend is borrowing his clothes again, that is, until Phichit grabs Yuuri’s arm and pulls him out of the room with him.

Phichit slams the door shut, at last saying, “You, Yuuko, and I are surprising Victor and Yuri with a tour of Japan.”

He pulls a stuttering Yuuri along before he continues with, “Well, what’s inside the walls anyway.”

“Phichit!” With a final tug against the unrelenting resistance, Yuuri gives in with a sigh.

“Plus,” Phichit says, “maybe we can visit your old friend! Did you see them since you went off duty?”

Yuuri doesn’t respond, guilt weighing down the last remnants of fight as he follows a skipping Phichit down the stairs.

 

* * *

 

Yuuri stands behind his two friends, trying to hide in the scarf Phichit picked out for him while Yuuko and Phichit knock enthusiastically on the door.

They don’t seem to mind that they are making a fool of themselves, standing on envelopes outside the door.  Yuuri recognizes the Russian characters on a few of them, as well as the official demon army seal on another.  He hopes the scuff marks don’t damage the content inside.

There’s a bark from inside the apartment, soon followed by an annoyed, “What?!” and then the door is thrown open, revealing the young teen in his sleepwear with a growl on his face.

It only takes a moment before Yuuko and Phichit declare in sync, “We are going out!”

There’s a moment of tense anticipation before, “That’s an incredibly stupid idea, I refuse.” Yuri says and slams the door shut.  

Yuuri almost feels bad for his friends as they look at each other in confusion and dejection.

“I was not expecting that,” Yuuko mumbles, disappointment starting to settle.

Yuuri thinks about suggesting that they get something to eat instead, until there’s a sudden shout of “Lies! Yuri!” from inside the apartment followed by sounds of many things falling.

Yuri shouts a, “You idiot!” before the door is opened to the shocking image of Victor in a loose robe and dripping wet hair.

“We’ll be ready in a few minutes.”

It’s not hard to notice how Yuuko covers her face as redness overtakes her ears, while Phichit whistles and Yuri groans.

The sudden turn barely makes it through to Yuuri, and when it does he knows for sure he won’t be surviving today sane.

 

* * *

 

“This is stupid, the soldiers are hated and you go out with the piggy and his friends. Not to mention, forcing me to come with you!” Yuri yells the last part, sulking as Yuuko and Phichit hold clothes up to the teen’s form, both assessing if it goes with the leopard print the teen seems so fond of.

Victor is busying himself at a food vending stand, barely reacting to the outcry.

Yuuri feels pity for the boy, remembering how he was torn out of his apartment in a very literal sense.

“I’m sure it’s not as bad as it was. After all,” Phichit says, pulling a hat with cat ears onto the angry teen’s head, “Yuuko is able to walk around without trouble.”

Yuri quickly tears the hat off his head, “What does that have to do with anything, she’s a civilian!”

“Rude!” Yuuko exclaims, angrily wrapping a leopard print scarf around his neck and most of his face.

Yuuri wonders if he should do something instead of just watching while drinking coffee. However, he doesn’t really want to break out of his invisible presence.

“I was once a soldier myself, I’ll have you know.”

Yuri mumbles a “doubt it” through the scarf, and before he can do it himself, Phichit unravels the material from Yuri’s neck.

Yuuri barely has time to react before Phichit is pulling the screaming Russian down the street.

“It’s on! Yuuko, let’s show him what us, more experienced, soldiers know about fighting.”

Yuuri watches, perplexed, not quite sure how the conversation took such a drastic turn, but before he can start to question it, Yuuko is exclaiming in anticipation and grabbing his hand followed by Victor’s as they pass, dragging them behind her cheers.

 

* * *

 

Yuuri doesn’t quite know what they are hoping to achieve by “fighting” in the park. All they did was pick up random sticks from the ground and then start to attack each other.

He’s just glad that he didn’t interfere earlier, as he figures that perhaps if he did he would have had to join them in their strange show.

As it is, he’s perfectly fine bundled up in his winter jacket, away from the strenuous activities in the snow, and left to be an onlooker.

However, he would be a thousand times more relaxed if when he had sat down, Victor didn’t sit beside him.

It’s not particularly the close proximity that’s making him uneasy, but more of the fact that instead of watching the others, Victor is intently staring at Yuuri.

He’s already glanced over two times to make sure he wasn’t just being overly paranoid, but each time he was correct in his suspicions.

Yuuri is on the verge of either getting up to escape, or asking what it is, however unlikely that idea is, when the sudden words, “You’re avoiding me,” comes from Victor’s side of the bench.

“No, I’m...” Yuuri turns to him quickly, “not” but his words turn weak and without resolve.

Truthfully, he still believes that if he actually sees this as real, it won’t be long until it disappears soon afterwards. With that thought driving his recent actions, he can’t deny that he was adamantly denying any association with both the Russians, as he’s not exactly subtle, but he was hoping that it would never come up in conversation.

To his response, Victor hums before he rests the side of his head on his fist and observes the others fighting. Yuuri doesn’t know if the other is actually watching or thinking, but either way Yuuri is a little bit fearful of how this recognition could affect their working relationship.

“I won’t bite.”

The words are not anything he was expecting Victor to say.

“What?”

Victor glances at Yuuri, not moving his head from its position as he continues, “It’s an expression, right? Don’t worry, I never hurt teammates.”      He says the last part a bit distantly, bitterly, and Yuuri wonders what he thought to create such a tone.  Perhaps he already offended him in some way or another.

There still lies the fear of rejection that keeps Yuuri from agreeing automatically. He doesn’t do well with people he doesn’t know personally, and the fact remains that Victor is basically a stranger, standing on the pedestal of idolization. But perhaps that’s half Yuuri’s fault for creating walls everywhere when there’s a new comer.

Yuuri remembers many instances where his own antisocial tendencies have denied him the option of friends, and knows from experience that many times when letting someone in, they have easily left without saying anything. Except he also knows that allowing himself to open up in some circumstances has turned out to be one of the best decisions he’s ever made.

Yuuri takes a moment, determination forming his hands into fists. “Alright,” Yuuri says, finding resolve in the way Phichit and Yuuko are laughing at how the fight has suddenly turned into them throwing snow balls.

If Victor is going to try and cross the bridge between them, Yuuri wants to be less of a bother and meet him halfway.

Yuuri forces himself to fully turn towards Victor, but he can’t help the way he refuses to look up from the bench space between them. “If you don’t do that, then I will… _try_ to do better.”

He wants to say that he will do it without a doubt, but he knows himself well enough that doing such a thing is not as easy as just saying it.

Victor does not immediately reply, and the silence doesn’t do much for Yuuri’s resolve, as he begins to think perhaps he should have lied and suffered the consequences.

It’s not until there’s a touch to his head and his hood starts to be pushed back that Yuuri finally looks up from staring at a spot on the bench seat. For the first time Yuuri realizes how close in proximity they have become and how Victor looks very stunning surrounded by snowy scenery.

Victor removes his hand, quicker than necessary, as he looks towards the others, “You shouldn’t hold your demon back so much when you fight.”

Yuuri is confused at the reaction, but doesn’t dwell on it.

“When you were doing the entrance exam you only used your sword and common basics, you didn’t utilize the full potential of your abilities.” Victor explains, bringing to light the reason for his calculating look after the exam, the one that brought such anxiety to Yuuri.

“Alright,” Yuuri repeats, more determined than before, and happy for a tip to improve his techniques. Something for him to work on and hopefully give him the chance to be worthy of Victor Nikiforov’s time.

“Good,” Victor says, getting up from the bench. Yuuri notices how the others are already brushing the snow off their clothes and wonders how he could have lost track of time when only a second ago he was desperately wanting to be anywhere else.

“You start strengthening your control, and then I’ll start teaching you some of my own techniques.”

Victor holds out his hand for Yuuri to take, and while it might just be a common courtesy to help another to their feet or as a way to formalize their spontaneous ‘deal,’ to Yuuri it means so much more.

He smiles, hoping that the risk at opening up is worth it in the end, as he takes the offered help.

And for the first time he lets himself believe this is reality.


	5. Undeniably

 “Yuuri Katsuki!” An energetic voice yells through the early morning rush of the barracks. Yuuri grabs the handle to his katana as he spins around, only to see a young man standing in the entrance of the large room, out of breath and holding the door with one hand as he points at him with the other. If it weren’t for the excitement he heard a moment before or the giant smile on the boy’s face, Yuuri would assume that the display was a challenge. Thankfully it seems it wasn’t.

The boy, who has dyed blonde hair with a red streak in the front, brings his fists toward his body, a ball of energy, as he shakes violently, eyes shining and that smile everlasting.

Yuuri is more than a little confused.

They suddenly run towards him.

Yuuri tenses and forces himself not to react when they suddenly grab his hand and shake it erratically, jostling his bundled nerves as he tries to maintain a fleeting stillness.

“I’m Minami Kenjirou, but you can call me Kenjirou — or Minami!” The boy quickly corrects his usual greeting. “I’m a huge fan of yours! You have inspired me for so long, and oh my god, this is happening.” He seems to be bouncing slightly on his feet, and for a moment Yuuri thinks Phichit would appreciate this boy’s excitement.

“H-Hello, Kenjirou-kun.” Yuuri says in tight politeness, earning a squeak from the boy (with a mumbled ‘he said my name.’)

“Kenjirou!” A voice calls from the doorway. Celestino looks anything but pleased, his eyes hard, a warning; one for the boy’s own safety instead of strict command, Yuuri knows the look well. Celestino’s stance soon eases a bit as he sees Yuuri standing ram rod straight, the other boy unrelenting in releasing his hand.

“Yuuri, how are you?” Celestino says as soon as he is nearer, followed by a lady with her chocolate hair tied in a braid, fringe sweeping over her forehead, and another boy around Minami’s age with calm yet wide brown eyes and tawny colored hair that curls just slightly.  He is sure he has seen the woman around the barracks before.

“Fine.”

“Good, good.”

Celestino glances behind his shoulder at the woman and the other young boy, “This is Fujiwara Hikaru.” He pats the boy on the shoulder, who nods his head, the brown strand of hair that curls over his forehead bouncing with the movement.

Wiping his tired eyes, Celestino turns back to Yuuri and Kenjirou, “And you’ve already met Minami Kenjirou.”

“Yes. Hello.” Yuuri says, trying to remove his hand that was slowly losing circulation, which proved to be meaningless.

“They will be the other members of your team, as I am sure you understand.”

“Yes, of course.”

Yuuri knew the moment Celestino walked in the training room with the other boy behind him and the one already in front of him. Two new recruits. Two to go with his team’s three.

Damn.

The idea had crossed his mind when he was on his way.  However, he was hoping that this sudden meeting he was informed of would be about anything else. He has gone through this same scenario many times; different faces, same motive. He knew it was inevitable, three members don’t make a full team after all.

He just hopes he doesn’t get attached.

 

* * *

 

 

It has not been long since Yuuri last was in his sister’s apartment, little over a few days, and already he felt a little distant, nostalgic. It never felt like a home when he stayed there, but it was still a place where Mari and he were able to reconnect as siblings, and as short that opportunity was, he was unwilling to let the effort they worked hard for diminish so easily. If it was hard to reconnect the first time, then it would be harder the next time, so he refuses to let it get to that point again.

Mari sits across from him as they talk animatedly about all the little things that changed since a few weeks prior. They speak of his brief training sessions and what the administration has been doing about the riots. How the groups have started to reform, calling themselves things like the “Survivors of Reason” or the “Beginners of a New Era” – each name becoming more ridiculous than the last, and yet they tower in numbers over the few groups that are on the side of the government, and in turn, the soldiers fighting for it.

He chooses not to bring up the government official that still makes his skin crawl just thinking about it.

“And those Russian boys, are they treating you well?” Mari adds on at the end of the conversation, one regarding the other soldiers he once considered almost-friends, but since everything, they all have become standoffish and preferring to leave the room whenever he enters.

He can’t blame them, after all, he was part of the surviving few of the massacre, so they probably see him as part of the problem.

He hadn’t wanted to speak about this, but when Mari asked he couldn’t deny the matter. Even if he chose to in his own mind.

“Victor and Yuri.” Yuuri corrects, setting his cup down onto the table gently, “You know their names Mari.”

She sighs tiredly, shaking her head resolutely at the thought, “I know, I know, but after their sudden appearance, you’re now in the army again and the riots have been getting more…” Her voice trails away, no doubt caught in the memory of earlier that morning when her brother came through the door with his clothes askew, as though he had just run from a pack of feral beasts.

“It’s not their fault.” Yuuri defends, a little distractively, as the silent accusations behind her words weave through his own version of that morning. There have been rumors floating around that the people who participated in the competitions were making it worse. Plus, apparently a few of the competitors from the rival countries were still in Japan. Yuuri wouldn’t know why, but when Victor and Yuri come to mind, he has no idea why they would stay, let alone people he hasn’t seen since entering that arena. He is exhausted from everything that has been going on recently, resulting in little to no energy to even try persuading anyone when he himself is also uncertain regarding the situation on the streets.

“I know I should think so, and really it isn’t, but it’s been… difficult these past few days.” Mari pours some more of the steaming liquid into her cup, setting the pot back down and then just tapping her fingers on the table, lost again, that same sad drop of her eyes and lips, concerned about the repercussions on the soldiers, but mostly for her little brother.

Yuuri tries to be calm, taking another sip of his drink, but she’s holding back. He can hear it in the unfinished lilt in her voice, and the constant twitch of her fingers on the table. It was only a matter of time before he would have to say something that most likely gave away his opinion, or lack thereof.

He stares off at the apartment, it’s still as lived in and messy as when he was last there, more so in fact, with a few jackets draped over the couch and mismatched shoes scattered on the floor.  It was unsettling to believe that outside of this room so many things lay waiting, creatures and magic and people, all of which was undefined as either good or bad. And he would have to go out there soon only to follow another’s orders. In a different life, maybe, he would think it strange, but it is what he is used to now.  He has no other opinion on the facts of his reality.

“Hey,” Mari says, a sincere smile taking form over the sad glaze she had not a moment before, as she reaches over the table to grab his hand and squeezes it reassuringly. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up.” She pulls her hand away only to refill his half empty cup to the top, “Tell me about Celestino. How is he?”

Yuuri allows the subject change, and as they speak of more idle things, the conversation started to turn towards life outside of the barracks and anything relating to it. They spoke of Yuuko and the triplets, and how the girls were being more uncooperative than usual, with school teaching about the world behind the walls. It was a little before the sun started fading out of the sky, when the chill of the air was more bitter with the retreat of the sun’s heat, that he was on his way back to the barracks.

“Keep yourself safe.” Mari says at the doorway, Yuuri’s coat and scarf already on as he pulls the gloves over his freezing fingers. He smiles at her, wrapping his arms around her shivering torso in a tight hug. “And visit me more often, nothing like before, got it?” Her words are warm against his hair before he pulls away and gives her a resolute nod.

“Of course.”

 

* * *

 

 

“I can’t believe you were late. This was the fifth time, Victor!” Yuri complains yet again as the team leaves the training room late in the evening. Yuri has been reprimanding the man constantly since Victor had entered the room; his training gear impeccable and his personality casual, as though he was fashionably late, showing up an hour before the training room closed up for the night.

Victor barely did anything after he got there; swung his sword a few times at the dummy, told Yuri he would spar with him tomorrow (a promise he has used the past few days), and didn’t break a sweat whatsoever.

Which left Yuuri to be on the receiving end of the young Russian’s anger and maturing skill.

Yuuri’s burning muscles and his skin sticking with sweat under his too tight clothes are the consequences.

He longs for the showers and a hot cup of tea.

“Really, Yuri. You can’t blame me. Japan is a beautiful country, I was just admiring it.”

“Victor!” A sudden yell comes over the bustle of the lobby.

Christophe Giacometti runs towards their team, making a scene as he weaves his way through the crowd over to them.

“Chris! It’s been a while.”

“Too long.  I thought you were on your way back to Russia by now.” Chris looks over Victor’s shoulder at the group behind him. Both Yuris he recognized, though the other two are new to him, as seen through the questioning upturn of his eyebrow. Regardless, he smiles brightly at them all. “Evening boys.”

“Well plans change…” Victor pauses for a brief second, before, “I found a new company to work with, actually.”

Chris looks at his longtime friend, his green eyes wide and lips fallen open in shock, “Wait –” He glances at the boys again and then back at Victor, quickly coming to terms with the size of the group and the meaning clicking into place. “You’re joining Japan?”

“Already joined.”

“Victor –” Chris starts, but his voice hints more at him being in awe than criticizing. He seems more like a young man learning something absolutely amazing than a trained killer.

“It’s worthless. I tried to talk him out of it before.” Yuri interrupts, pushing his way between the two, a mumble of “stupid man” before he takes a drink of his water bottle and walks out of the lobby, probably returning to his and Victor’s apartment.  

Chris shakes himself out of his trance, a wide grin overtaking his face and then grabs Victor into a tight hug. “Well this is news to me.”

“Aha,” Victor returns the embrace, patting the other’s back. “I haven’t made it public yet.”

Victor pulls away first, a tilt of his head to show his slight confusion, “You don’t seem upset.”

“I mean, a little. How will we compete against each other now that you’re with Japan?” Chris teases.

“We’ll deal with it when the time comes.” Victor reassures, squeezing his companion’s shoulders before letting go.

Chris laughs, “Well I can certainly see why you would join. Japan has a lot of beautiful people.” With that he winks at Yuuri, who has been silently standing by, lost in his own mind. Yuuri seems to have come to right at that point as he smiles awkwardly at the other man, taking a step back. Suddenly aware that the subject of conversation has taken a sudden plummet in his direction.

“The answer is still no Chris.” Phichit says as he walks up, wrapping an arm around Yuuri’s shoulders and leaning into his best friend.

“Where did you come from?” Yuuri whispers to him alone, relieved nonetheless at the sudden reveal of a friendly face.

“I’m your greatest admirer _and_ best friend. I’m always behind you.” Phichit teases, squeezing his friend in a half hug. “And Celestino called for you, wanted to talk about your new placement.” He gives Yuuri a meaningful look, a look that Yuuri instantly recognizes as one of predetermined phrase of escape, and a sudden calm falls over him.

“Okay.” Yuuri pulls away, “It was nice to see you again, Chris. Minami, Fujiwara, Victor.” He waves a little at the conglomeration of goodbyes and see you laters, walking away and entering the part of the barracks where officials’ offices and the bedchambers coincide.

 

* * *

 

 

Yuuri watches mother and daughters in the small hallway, following close behind, yet not too close as the girls seemed close to trying to take his katana a number of times in the past half hour. Axel, Lutz, and Loop (names dedicated to Yuuko’s long lost love of ice skating before the world’s fall) had apparently wanted to see where their mother and where uncle Yuuri and Phichit worked, though Yuuri suspects that they just used that excuse to get into the building and try to uncover rumors that circulate about the army.

“Loop! Axel! Get away from that door!” Yuuko whisper yells, quickly trying to pull them away from the third door on this hall they have tried to get into.

The triplets giggle conspicuously, their grins malicious and their big eyes gleam, before they run down the hall to another equally off-limits door.

Yuuko sighs, relenting in her attempts.

Yuuri watches them try and jostle the door open before going to the next one when they find it locked. It reminds him of when he was younger, had just joined the army with his friend and was following her when she was doing the same as her children are now. It scared him then, but after a few years of their mother’s antics, seeing her children act the same was sort of a relief. Time changes, but Yuuko will live on, whether it be as herself or through three mini versions of her, and he’ll do anything in his power to keep all four of them safe and well.

“You know,” Yuuko starts, looking at Yuuri thoughtfully as she falls into step with him, “You really don’t need to come with us.”

It’s not the first time she has said it, probably not the last if he keeps giving the same answer with little excuse, but he can’t help it when the only other options are his empty room, or to go to that party that Phichit, Victor and Yuri were getting ready to go to in a few hours.

Yuuri had told her about it earlier, how he was watching Victor and Chris talk, trying to come to terms with the fact that he actually knows both of them, on multiple occasions actually, when Chris brought attention to him in a flirtatious manner.

“I know.”

Yuuri can feel her eyes on him as they finish walking the length of the hall and turn the corner after her children. He can feel the words she isn’t saying heavy in the space between them and contracting with each passing second.

“Okay, how about this.” Yuuko grabs Yuuri’s arm, turning him towards her as they both stop in the hallway; her triplets running around nearby, their little feet scurrying around, reassuring them of their presence.

“Phichit mentioned that Chris invited the whole new team for a party, maybe there you can let lose you know, talk, drink, get to know other people…” Yuuko trails off, as though implying something that Yuuri tries not to notice. Her eyes look separately at each of his, hinting her meaning and gauging the reaction through his expression.

Yuuri actually wished Phichit wouldn’t have told her the specifics about the party, but those two are inseparable, as the three of them together once were.  He shouldn’t have expected otherwise.

Yuuri’s lack of response leads her away from her implications and instead into defeat.

“Phichit would like it if you joined with him...” She tries one last tactic.

Yuuri grabs her hands that have been holding onto his arms, their grip having slowly weakened as the one-sided conversation dragged on. He keeps both of her hands in his and let them swing in between their bodies.

“Yuuko, I appreciate your advice, but I’m just not ready to try to take that step. And, with the number of rioters after the soldiers out in the city… I’m just not…”

Yuuko sighs before pulling him into a hug, “I just don’t want you to be alone, and opening up and talking to people is one way to stop.”

Yuuri wraps his arms around her, missing all those times when they could talk together without having to cross the city to do it, just the two of them, having to just gauge his thoughts from the expression on his face.

People have gotten increasingly more difficult to speak to over the years, with one conversation turning into another, and each one quickly turning sour from his inability to continue it on. It’s nice to have this once more; the understanding and the advising. He wonders again why he tried to cut everything of his past away.

His sister, wanting to speak to him and make sure he is safe and taken care of; Yuuko, wanting him to not bubble himself away as he has countless times. Really, all the Nishigoris have been there, and he needs to remember that he has people that are there for him, for as long as they’ll have him.

“I’m not alone.”

 

* * *

 

 

Yuuri has been left in Victor and Yuri’s apartment since they entrusted the care of Makkachin to him, a task he took willingly. Makkachin is one giant sweet heart, who never seems to judge him even if he choices her company over a room full of people. Plus, with the reason for Victor and Yuri’s departure being the party Chris is holding a few blocks away, he was more than happy to reassure he was fine with staying.

He has nothing against Chris, it’s just the crowds and the drinking and the silent _judging_ that makes Yuuri uncomfortable. But Victor did look very sad at him not being there…

No. He shakes his head a bit at the thought. He made his choice, and it’s the right one. Going would have just been one awkward conversation after another, until every person at the party left him in a corner to eat the food alone. It has happened only a few times before – at every party that did not have one of his few preferred companions – but the embarrassment has left its imprint on his soul. He has no intention to relive torture.

But maybe he misinterpreted Yuri and Victor’s expressions before they left, as he can’t fully see why they would be disappointed of his not being there.

Ever since they have taken up a part of his life, there have been certain borders that have been breached, ones that make them seem so much more _human_. So much more than idols on pedestals, to be observed from afar and spoken about through rumors. For particular, the “two sides of Victor Nikiforov” that he used to heard throughout the years. The most admired was the work extremist, something that Yuuri found he was mildly scared of.  He can remember clearly the one day that he walked into the training room, ready for a day of mindless autopilot, when Victor yelled at him that he was late and that he would be sparring with him later. The memory of being watched carefully as he warmed up and when he got into position against Victor was one of the most nerve racking of his army career. And he’s been in battle countless of times.

It might have been something about Victor’s sharp eyes that unnerved him, or maybe because he was preparing to fight a known champion. And he used to dream about the chance to, but in that moment, he wanted to run far, far away.  Either way, it still causes a strange feeling to nestle in his limbs.

Then there was the eccentric, uncaring, yet not entirely unkind, mood.  Many times, Yuuri has been dragged off on one of Victor’s outings where he would decide to buy the most random of souvenirs Yuuri has seen.

Yuuri has no doubts that if both sides ever combined forces he would surely die before the beasts outside the walls did it for him.

But he is also learning other things. Things that made Victor seem so more real: _human._

How Victor would laugh while playing with Makkachin, how he would tease Yuri into unknowingly making a more reasonable decision, and how he would look at Japan as though it was a grand adventure. There is so much more that Yuuri wants to learn, but he keeps having to remind himself that all of this is temporary.

So, every time a new revelation comes forth, he lets the flutter vanish into a dull ache, unwilling to keep hold of it for too long.

There’s a rustling outside the door and the doorknob jostles. Makkachin lifts her head quickly from where it was laying on his lap and jumps off of Yuuri, finally letting him move his numb legs after hours of immobility.

The door swings open to reveal a shivering Yuri, who quickly comes in and slams the door behind him quickly, no one following.

Yuri looks over at the couch where Yuuri is sitting up from his lying position, “You’re still up?”

“Yes.”

“Well, whatever. But if Victor comes back and asks if I was here, pretend like I’m not.”

Yuuri nods, though he doubts he would ever put his life on the line for something as simple as that.

Yuri leaves into the adjacent rooms, most likely his bedroom as sounds of clothing hitting the floor and other miscellaneous noises soon follow the door closing.

Yuuri figures this as good time as any to leave, and gets up from the couch, fluffing the pillows and folding the blanket then placing it down before retrieving his jacket off the hook by the door.

One of the sleeves won’t slide on correctly, an unnecessary hinderance. A snort from somewhere in the room behind him prompts him to peer over his shoulder, finally pulling his jacket fully over himself, he zips up the front. “What is it?”

“Strange,” is his only response as Yuri shakes his head in some sort of amusement before he moves into the kitchen and grabs one of the water bottles off the kitchen table.

Yuuri tilts his head at the comment, barely taking offense, though the way it was said could have something to do with that. It was more like an understanding than an insult.

“Sorry?”

After a long gulp of the clear liquid, Yuri caps the bottle while explaining, “You have friends,” he starts, like he has better things to do than saying something apparently so blatantly obvious, “Yuuko, Phichit, even Victor is warming up to you. People wanted to see you at the party, yet you hid away here. Why is that?”

Yuuri stares at him, this young man who stands so confidently in this old apartment, he seems so at ease, yet the way his hand constantly rests on the handle of his sword tells of the ruin and devastation he has witnessed. He’s a boy, who has fought and bled, and who others compliment even when he was mean to their faces not moments before.

But he also has a kind side to him that he pretends is not there, hidden in the way he questions others and states his opinion bluntly, holding nothing back. And while it might be hurtful, in the long run, it helps. In its own way.

Yuuri gives the young man a sad smile, pushing away the evaluation, before saying a quiet “goodnight” and leaves through the front door.

 

* * *

 

 

“I love this country.” Victor yells, having just finished his elaborate explanation of the wonders of Japan since they left the apartment building. Yuuri can’t really remember anything after something about how cute the food stalls and shops were, where age old traditions and stories ran in the very fibers of the foundations.

“Yes, we know,” Yuri grumbles beside him, dodging someone’s elbow. He has repeated the phrase too many times throughout the entire rant, pointlessly hoping his sharp voice and words would shut up his counterpart. It didn’t before, it doesn’t now.

“I can’t help it, it’s amazing here.” At the sentiment, Victor twirls in a dangerous circle, his arm narrowly misses Yuri’s head and lightly smacks Yuuri’s shoulder where he tried to pull away before it could cause damage, “I’ll never get enough of this.”

Yuuri smiles a little, trying to hide his enjoyment of the man having such enthusiasm for his home. He can’t remember the last time he truly looked at the places around him, if he ever did, but with Victor there telling him everything he’s forgotten or ignored, he feels a contagious excitement flowing through his body.

“What about you, Yuuri?” It takes a moment, but when the silence drags on and no answer comes from the young Russian, Yuuri looks over to see Victor looking at him with a smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes, a certain inquisitive glimmer.

“Sorry?”

“Do you have anything we should try soon? Or something that you love about your Japan?” The term ‘your Japan’ for some reason is incredibly cute to Yuuri, like, being a native to the country somehow makes it something of his own, like he has his own little world in an even bigger sphere.

“Well…” Yuuri looks around, the excitement distracting from the sudden thrum of his heartbeat. Around him are food stalls that Victor has already been too, the stores that line the streets, and many little things they have seen more than a few times this past month. “It seems like you’ve already seen everything.”

“I have?” Victor’s smile seems to dwindle at the news. It hurts Yuuri more than he would like to admit, but with the attack years ago it has taken many things from this world, he can’t lie for something when he has nothing else to offer.

“What about what you remember… from before?”

Yuuri watches the people and pavement move with them, a sinking feeling settling with his next words. “I don’t remember much of _before,_ just… a little before the walls were built and when we moved in.” The ‘we’ referring to Mari, Yuuko, and Takeshi.

“Wait,” Yuri speaks up at that, leaning forward so he can look across Victor to Yuuri, “You aren’t originally from inside the walls?”

Yuuri chuckles, “The walls weren’t there for a few years until after the attack.” He tries to prolong the conversation, but the sudden realization that with all of things to open up about, it’s with this. It makes him shrink into himself a little.

With Yuuri’s sudden quiet, it seems to draw pity from Victor as he assures, “You don’t have to speak about it if you don’t want to.” He lies a hand on Yuuri’s arm that has started to curl around his torso. The touch seems unwanted – the voice in his head telling him Victor’s lying and trying to breach into his personal bubble.

_\-- opening up and talking to people is one way to stop._

Yuuko’s words suddenly flit through his chaotic spiral of his own insecurities and the voice’s warnings.

He tries to calm himself, desiring to listen to Yuuko’s advice rather than anything else.  Starting with deep breathes and long exhales, but with the subject of conversation being something so dark and painful, images of fire and ruin flashing in his vision, he can’t seem to stop his heart from its rapid run.

He doesn’t respond to Victor or Yuri after that, instead settling his sight on the blurring figures that walk in the opposite direction, ignoring the questions that linger from both the men beside him.

Without realizing it, they get to the corner near Yuuko’s shop, just as she opens the door to peek out and look for them.

“Yuuri! Victor, Yurio!” She yells when she sees them, waving at them, a little sporadically, as though in a hurry.

Yuuri picks up in speed, forcing away his spontaneous anxiety and ignoring Yuri’s annoyed huff at his nickname, “Yuuko? What is it?”

“Come in, come in!” She grabs him when he’s near enough, pulling him forcefully through the entrance of the shop, he almost trips on his feet. When he regains balance, he sees that she has done the same to the other two before she slams the door closed, covers the small window, and flips the lock.

“What the hell?” Yuri yells, but the way he grabs his sword and looks around the shop shares he’s more warry of the hidden evil rather than her drastic actions.

“You guys can’t be out in the open like that.” She explains, turning slowly around to look at them, hands twisting over her fingers as she bites her lip apprehensively.

“Why not?” Victor asks, looking between the door and Yuuko pensively, his hand also taking hold of his own sword.

Yuuri ignores his own weapon, instead grabbing hold of Yuuko’s shivering arms, and tolerating the tight grasp of her twitching hands on his forearms. Her eyes don’t stay on one thing for very long, a constant craze reflected in her usually warm eyes. His heart picks up speed faster.

“Um… you see…” Yuuko stutters, looking at Yuuri, then Victor, then Yuri, each of them anxious in their own right.

“Last night… people… were found dead.”


	6. Judgement's Repercussions

            “This doesn’t make sense.” Mari repeats for the sixth time since Yuuri walked into the apartment. She can barely control her annoyed confusion as the section of floor in front of the kitchen has become her pacing territory. Yuuri has stopped the idea of food after thirty minutes.

“How could people resort to killing each other? We’re not killers – well…” She side-eyes them as she turns direction, a clear indication regarding their profession. She has a point. Sadly.

Yuuri sighs at the truth of it. The very world they live in is contradictory; humanity is basically dead, what with the sudden unexplained catastrophe years ago, taking away most of human life, and then once the remnants of society became protected enough, the countries started to compete, wanting dominance over the already warped world. They, as soldiers fighting for such a corrupt system, would be blamed, and rightly so. Their jobs are to kill the unkillable, so why not.

Phichit snickers beside him in his sprawl over the couch, seemly finding irony in the situation.

Phichit had forced his way into Yuuri’s weekly visit, having explained it was because people have gotten more vicious regarding participators in the army ever since news broke out of the murders. Yuuri knew, as he was victim of more than one impromptu run ins with different rioter groups, so when Phichit suddenly jumped on his shoulders and proclaimed that they would proceed onward together, he gratefully accepted.

“It _does_ make sense though.” Yuuri says yet again, ignored.

“It’s terrible timing as well; the riots were calming! And now they have gotten more blood hungry. They might as well have become the monsters outside the walls!”  _Or the one in my head,_ Yuuri thinks – a sharp pain shoots through his skull.

“Well…” Phichit mumbles, rolling off the edge of the couch to stand up – quickly running into the kitchen in a moment when Mari isn’t passing it – “They were probably waiting for something to pin blame on us. You notice how when the news broke out there were suddenly more groups already fully set up?” Yuuri nods, though, again, ignored. “Who knows, maybe one of the groups is proving a point. The ones killed _were_ part of the few groups protecting us. – Aha!” He yelps in victory as he pulls out some melon bread.

Mari finally stops in her assault on the visibly scuffed floor, sighing from the very core of her being, “That’s ridiculous.” She doesn’t sound very convincing.

“It’s a possibility.”

“One that could cause civil warfare.”

“Mmm.”

Mari and Phichit share a sad glance at one another, understanding in their own way.

Yuuri stays out of the conversation, opting to instead look away from the two of them and towards his and Phichit’s swords that lean against the wall by the front door. It’s always been a hassle to carry around such large, obvious weapons, but now it seemed impossible to go through the city with a disguise when they give them away so easily. It’s akin to a sign hanging above their head, just, on their hip.

How many times will they have to wield those weapons to protect their city and its people until those very same people accept that they have no other choice? If there was some other way to live in harmony without constant fear of what lives behind walls, then Yuuri knows without a doubt that he would grab for that chance of freedom the first chance he got.

They don’t speak much after that, going through the motions as they talk idly about Yuuko, the better parts of army life, and Mari’s new job, a bartender at the only real surviving bar in the city. Other places in the city have tried to remedy the lack of alcohol a few years ago, the oldest inhabitants deciding it was high time they know for themselves what the deal with the intoxicating liquid was.  Yuuri wasn’t keen on the idea of her working so close with it, not wanting her to get hurt with the possible drunks, but his concerns are shot down when she reminded him that the last job she had lasted for only five days, and that was _caretaking of a bird._

He tried not to think about it the rest of the visit.

It’s when Phichit and Yuuri are on their way out the door that Mari stops them, grabbing onto their upper arms clad in their thick jackets.

“I want you both to stay low for a bit.”

Phichit tries to sooth her, taking the hand on his arm and rubbing the back of it with his thumb, “That’s not really possible, Mari –” But her pleading eyes, the worry lines scrunching her forehead and lips, seem to give him pause.

“You need to, if they suspect –”

“Mari.” Yuuri finally says, her eyes instantly going to him for reassurance. He has never seen this side of her, not to this extent. True, the catastrophe has changed her from who she was as a child, more contained to her own world, only minding him when he needed her most.  But ever since he had become solely dependent on her, he sees how much she has taken his life into her arms.  He knows he’s partially to blame for her worries, always had made her conscious of his mortality once danger was more of a fact than a precaution, but he had hoped that over time that it would pass into an inkling in the back of her mind.

A futile hope.

He draws her into his arms, trying to replicate the hugs she has given him countless times when he was scared and saw no end in sight. “There’s nothing to suspect.”

He feels her shaky sigh, the only indication that she is conceding to the fact that they can’t do anything about their predicament.

Phichit joins in, squeezing them both, his voice a whisper of sincerity, “I won’t let anything happen to Yuuri or me.”

Their words seem to ease her, as her shoulders and arms sag before squeezing Yuuri, strengthening her grasp again. She keeps her hold regardless of the increasing intensity of the winter night air, and only when her breaths are as close to normal as they can be do her arms slip away. Her eyes don’t meet theirs immediately, but when they do, Yuuri notes the misty way they glisten. His childish self is amazed to see his older sister near tears, his unwillingness to recognize that everything has been taking their toll on her, fades away in moment of clarity. She always seemed strong, a constant calm against his fraying nerves.

He keeps her hand in his as he smiles for her, “Stay safe.”

And he lets her hand go.

 

* * *

 

Celestino’s office has changed multiple times throughout the years, always old and worn from the misuse from previous owners or from being exposed to the elements. It’s only once Celestino has fully settled in that the rooms ever have any semblance of peace; when he is sitting behind his desk and scribbling away on paperwork that never seems to end, and when he believes he’s alone, humming to himself in the privacy of his books and trinkets from before the catastrophe, precious care taken to preserve them in pristine condition.

It was early in the morning when Yuuri awoke to a knock on his door and an indistinguishable voice saying he was being summoned to a meeting with Celestino and his team at in an hour. And as he stumbled around his room to get ready, he was confused, as the only reasonable possibility for his being called upon was already weeks passed, and even then, Celestino had come to him with the new recruits. Unless of course it had to do with the murders that have started to seem like a systematic assault on the people…

Yuuri arrived before everyone else, pleasant greetings with his instructor exchanged before they sat in silence and maintained to themselves until the others appeared; Celestino scratching his papers with one of his old pens and Yuuri in a mindless haze of delusions.

Minami and Fujiwara got there second, bowing deeply at the door for them both. Minami made a show of dashing for the seat closest to Yuuri, the side of one of the two couches and leaning over the arm of it to be nearer to the chair Yuuri was occupying, a restless ball of excitement as he spoke quickly of his week and what he did outside of training, though they had seen each other not twelve hours before.

Fujiwara was calmer. Though, as he took the chair beside Minami, he seemed to be holding himself back from joining in with Minami’s rambles.

Yuri came next, his hair a mess and purple circles around his eyes, clearly not happy with his summons as he grumbled what Yuuri could only presume were Russian swears, and then he plopped down into the side of the couch on the far end, the furthest away from the three of them as he could get while still remaining comfortability.

Not long after, Victor entered, burst through the door more like, as the wooden door hit the wall and he exclaimed an overly enthusiastic “I have arrived!” Minami and Kenjirou were the only ones to find his entrance amusing, as they awed and clapped, the rest of them just staring at the scene in varying levels of tolerance.

“With you all here, let us begin.” Celestino states, a hush settling as Victor takes the last remaining space on the love seat beside Yuri.  Yuuri sitting in the only armchair lined with the two love seats, enough room for five members of a team and a council member if needed, though with how everyone is taking more than their share, it was more comfortable than intimidating.

“As you must know, there have been murders happening in the main district of the city.” His usual laid-back manner being covered up by his professional mannerisms, “The number of rebellions has been rising with each new victim that is found, and with no culprit in custody there is a high likelihood that the death rates will only increase. Additionally, the activity outside the walls has also increased, both Horsemen and vampires have been seen more frequently since last week. So,” Celestino looks each of them in the eyes, concern only shown through the way he nervously wipes his thumb over his clasped hands on the table, a tell Yuuri has only found earlier that year, “tomorrow morning you all will be taking patrol on the outer circuit of the walls.”

Their hush turns tense with the order weighing down, as every second passes the meaning becomes clearer and the reasons behind it lay unspoken, yet just as loud.

They are being ordered away from the city and its suspicions, out where their very real enemies have become more active within the last few days. Yuuri tries not to pin point coincidences, but it’s hard to deny It when the danger will be surrounding him within twenty-four hours.

“No!”

“I decline.”

“Celestino, sir, please, no.”

“If I can, I would like to _not._ ”

Yuuri stays silent in the group’s denial of their order, the sudden onslaught of voices stifling where there once was silence. He’s unwilling to accept that his reasoning, and what seems to be everyone else’s reasonings, to be true. Surely, the committee can’t judge their first mission as a death sentence? They haven’t even shown what they can do as a team beyond training sessions inside a room that barely fits three teams at a time, and now they will have to rely on each other’s abilities in an open space regardless of trust…

It’s an order, one that he can’t refuse. The committee’s decision might be based on the wellbeing of the civilians and the violence of the rioters, and in a way, they’re being reasonable.

“We accept.”

The others of his team stop their mid rant as Yuuri stands up to leave the room. They seem to be confused as to if the phrase was actually spoken, by him no less. He uses the momentary shock to ease his way to the door.

“What?!” Is yelled in both Russian and Japanese as he bows to Celestino before opening the door for his departure. He doesn’t want to hear their excuses, and even when he’s halfway down the hallway and hears stomps of feet behind him, he still hopes that he might delay the arguments.

“Yuuri.”

Victor’s steady voice behind him gives him pause. He can’t describe the reason why when he was so sure of walking out of the confrontation a moment before. He blames his petty need to talk to his long-time idol. He relents and turns enough to see them.

Yuri stands beside Victor, the only two who must have felt inclined to continue with their case, as he can see the other two leaving in the opposite direction. Minami and Fujiwara must understand it’s a lost cause in changing his mind, because even if it’s a written rule that everyone must agree on refusing an order, they don’t even put up a fight. Yuuri doesn’t question if it’s because it’s him or because they see the futility of their actions.

“You don’t need to accept so easily.” Victor says, his voice and body relaxed even when he was so annoyed a moment ago.

Yuri bristles at the older man beside him, a half glare in his direction, though Yuuri doesn’t get the silent conversation their eyes seem to have.

“Why not?”

Victor opens his mouth, but before he can –

“Because it’s stupid! That’s why! Why the hell should we have to patrol the perimeter when we could be trying to push our borders? This is just cleanup work!” Yuri yells the explanation, as though that is enough a reason.

Yuuri laughs uncomfortably, wanting to shrink into his own body as he finds himself the cross road between their approval. “Is that how you both think?”

“Yes!”

“Yes.”

They both look so sure of their answer. The phrase _just cleanup work_ repeating in Yuuri’s head for a moment too long, before he sighs and looks at them separately. Yuri with his determined annoyance and fiery gaze, and Victor with his calm detachment and calculative assessment. So different yet so set with their ideas.

“Then I guess I can see why you reacted that way.”

“Exactly--!”

“But…” Yuuri interrupts, dropping his eyes to look instead out one of the tall hall windows, at the grounds below where they stand two stories up. Usually by this time of day, soldiers would be outside following orders and learning how to fight, how to stand properly, how to kill, only during this time of year, it’s inside. Nothing beyond that changes.

They don’t have a choice. They join the army, and from then on, their actions are predetermined.

“This is our job.” He says, “I don’t really know what you both expected when you joined the Japan division. It’s not as lavish as what you might be used to, so I’m sorry for that.”

He doesn’t dare look at their judgment of him, instead nodding to himself, telling himself he made the right move and turning back to return to his dark room.

 

* * *

 

“What do you think you’re doing, Yuuri?!” Phichit yells as form of announcing his presence. Yuuri has been trying to avoid him since he accepted the mission, preferring not to hear the scolding his actions would no doubt cause, but here he is.  “We promised Mari we would be safe!”

Phichit grabs Yuuri’s arm when he tries to continue walking, keeping him as spectacle in the yard out in front of the barracks. A few people stay to watch Yuuri’s humiliation, but other than that he is alone.

“It was an order, Phichit-kun. I can’t disobey—”

“You can refuse.”

Yuuri flinches, figuring that Phichit already knows that everyone else tried – and that he was the only one that didn’t.

“What is it, Yuuri? Why would you put yourself in danger? You usually don’t give up so easily, if anything it used to be me agreeing and you refusing.”

Yuuri can’t even smile to the small joke of their days as teammates, too on edge from being caught in his lie.

“This is our job.” He says as his reasoning, forcing his arm out of Phichit’s tight hold and hiding his hands in his jacket pockets as he starts his trek back into the main building, not feeling like sleeping anymore.

“It’s not your fault you know.” Phichit speaks softer now, his words almost swept away with the stillness of the dusk air.

Yuuri pauses, peering over his shoulder.  Phichit seems so vulnerable, so open and worried for him that Yuuri has to stop his body from moving back to hug him.

“You had nothing to do with those murders. There’s no need for you to hurt yourself.”

He looks so earnestly sincere with his words, his eyes shining through the darkness already falling around them as the day fades into darker shades of blue.

Everything in Yuuri wants to turn around and reassure his friend that he’s fine, that he doesn’t think that way, and he will go to Celestino right now and refuse the mission. He should, but he doesn’t.

“Thank you, Phichit. Good night.”

And as he’s leaving he can vaguely hear Phichit saying, “Damnit, Yuuri.”

 

* * *

 

Every breath Yuuri takes in is strained, fighting against the exertion his lungs have already endured while he attacks the dummy before him. Imagining the beasts of his past, the monsters of his anxiety, but most of all, the demons lurking just beyond manmade barriers. In a detestable part of his imagination, he pictures himself outside the safety of the walls, with his new team, walking along the old streets surrounded by broken and bending buildings that tower above him. Familiar, familiar, just different, as the figures in his mind meld into the bloody remains of his teammates – his swings and slashes become more chaotic and haphazard in his shaky grasp.

His grip weakens too quickly, his katana dropping to the empty training room floor with a dull clang. With a shaky breath Yuuri drops to his knees with it, letting go of all his own reserves and releasing the hold on his emotions as his body shivers and his eyes burn with the tears that start to fall. How can he do this? This is ridiculous. He can’t – he won’t – no, no, no.

His forehead is hot against the cool of the wood floor, and his hair fights against the merciless tug of his own fingers as he tries to reign in everything he has let loose. Everything has been building through the past hours, has dragged along and collected past thoughts and feelings, that it all seems like an endless waterfall, unwilling to stop. As he cries to himself, his pathetic display echoes off the confines of the walls and back towards him, mocking him in his abandoned state.

A sudden cool washes through his muddled mind, and flows down his veins, _shhh, shhh,_ repeats in his mind a few times, a phantom hand sweeping over his hair and down his back. The familiar murmurs and touches calm his fraying nerves, pulling him together one second at a time.

The tell-tale swish of the door opening shocks his body into action, as he startles into a sitting position, his one hand grabbing onto the hilt of his katana while the other lands on the wood below him, readying to push himself up and on the defensive if needed.

Except, when he sees Victor with his training clothes on and sword beside him, his body becomes defensive for his emotions rather than his physicality. 

“Vi-Victor?”

It takes the other man a moment to respond, his eyes looking over the red puffiness of Yuuri’s cheeks, the tear tracks falling from equally red eyes, and his black hair in disarray. The observation makes Yuuri more warry of the situation he’s found himself in, his eyes glancing down in shame, not far enough away from the other in case they might do something, but not looking at Victor’s judgement of his vulnerability either.

“So…” Victor finally starts, shifting on his feet and looking away as well, “you are affected by all of this…”

It’s not what Yuuri was expecting, but no less painful, as he realizes that Victor apparently thought so little of him that he saw him as apathetic to the possible pain of others. Yuuri rests back onto the heels of his feet, not relenting his hold on his sword, as a subconscious security, regardless if he feels too weak to lift it up.

“Of course.” Sad, subdued. He has lost all his feeble dignity the moment he was found, it’s useless to try and fight it.

Another pause, Victor frequently glances over to see Yuuri’s reaction, “I’m sorry for intruding.”

Yuuri shakes his head, finding that, in spite of being stripped of his façade of self-worth, that it was barely there to begin with. He is known for his shy and easily anxious characteristics, why should seeing one of his break downs in a public area be something to apologize for?

At least, that’s what his rational side says. His wounded and scared, unreasonable side soaks up the apology like water, wishing that he truly is sorry for being witness to such a terrible sight.  But no sooner does that ugly thought cross his mind does his rational sense take control.

“I was harsh.”  Yuuri finally admits, forcing out a shaky breath, “I should be the one to apologize. I have no idea what you’re used to back in Russia.”

Victor laughs sweetly, his sword rested against the wall, “We were being selfish, we shouldn’t have pushed. What we’re used to is training for competition, so really, we were just forcing our past desires on you.”  Victor stares off, looking at but not truly seeing Yuuri as he tilts his head. “We… never really got to go beyond our own walls in Russia, ever since our skills were assessed for what they were.”

 _Godly,_ is Yuuri’s automatic thought of their skills, skills that he has fantasized of someday fighting against not even six months ago, and yet, not a moment later from thinking such a thing, he finds that such skill has been restricting them. And considering Yuuri has been a fan for more than five years, it causes a stinging twinge of guilt to surface within Yuuri.  

“Why are you…” Yuuri starts, remembering that Victor lives in the apartment complex with Yuri, “all the way out here when you live in the city?” His usual state of mind would retreat quickly from such a question, but the break down from only minutes earlier has left him brain foggy and his limbs loose, he has no filter in this form of detachment.

“Uh,” Victor hesitates, looking at Yuuri’s figure in the middle of the floor, in the aftermath of losing all his sense, that Victor can’t seem to find a reason to hide, “I wanted to be alone.”

“Oh— sorry.” Yuuri forces his body to lift itself off the hard floor, mentally preparing for the awkward conversations tomorrow where they will have to deal with this later.

“No, wait! It’s okay!” Victor very quickly says, startling Yuuri in his haze as Victor follows it soon with, “This is better.”

It seems to occur to him a second too late, as he jumps back a little in his place, his cheeks becoming a shade of pink Yuuri’s more awake mind would definitely appreciate.  The little bit of rational that Yuuri does still have lets a shy smile seep onto his face, as the gravity of this turn of events falls into his psyche; his heart skips a little without his volition.

“Sorry for the intrusion.” Yuuri says.

 

* * *

 

A rush of people and buildings flash around him. Where is he? Where is he going? He can hear the vague sound of his name being called to him, can feel hands grasping his biceps and shaking him gently.  

“—at happen—”

There’s an urgency in their voices as they try to speak through his muddled thoughts. Did he hit his head?

“—ay? Yuuri, Yuuri? Please, talk to me! Are you okay? Hey--!”

He can’t remember. There are sudden images that peek through his blur of color; being on the road outside the walls, their unkept states giving them away— listening to his team talking to one another, he was watching out for danger, keeping himself behind them.

“—You have to be—”

His adrenaline spiked, a rush of his heartbeat pounding in his head as he held up his sword and prepared for what his demon was warning him for.

“—rememb—”

He had turned around in endless circles, watching his teammates starting to fight something too far ahead of him to see what. There was a crash of something behind him.

“—getting Celestino.”

He ran away from the group, his instincts overpowering his reason as he followed where that noise came from. Waiting, and then –

It’s only when those familiar hands on his arms break away and he is left alone to gather his breaths does he see the dry rusted residue clinging on his hands and underneath his fingernails.


	7. Self-proclaimed Burden

              “The absence of control was dealt after the consumption of the pills taken to heighten the connection between your demon and your conscience.” The doctor explains, her air of detached professionalism making the reality seem—unreal. “It is highly likely because of your previous cases of depression and anxiety. We understand that you have had troubles with your demon before, so, from here on, we advise that you refrain from using the drugs. Your coach, Celestino-san, as already been informed, and he agrees that you will no longer be allowed to use them. Until your body recovers you will remain in this hospital.”

After a nod and a quick question of whether his headache is acting up again, to which Yuuri replies they aren’t, the woman exits the room. It was terribly uncomfortable to have that woman observe him and assess his every problem, but it was considerably better than the uncomfortable air that suddenly stifles Yuuri’s lungs.

“Yuuri…” Phichit mumbles, concerned, but no less prodding than a needle. He’s been in the seat next to the bed for well over an hour, talking with him, but always with that inquisition just hiding beneath the surface.

Yuuri turns his head away. He refuses to take part in this awkward explanation. He’s already apologized every moment he could, what more can he say that will make anyone understand?

“Are you sure you don’t—”

The same question, over and over, different phasing and voice, but it’s all the same.

“No.”

He wasn’t so snappy the first times, really, he has been patient, but he can only stand answering with the negative so many times. No, he doesn’t remember exactly what happened after he blacked out, all he remembers is coming to in the infirmary with his clothes torn and hands covered with caking blood.

And no, he doesn’t know if he possibly _does_ remember; if it’s just locked away somewhere for his own sanity. What he does know is that forcing himself to try to unlock them gets no rewards. He’s already spent every night since doing just that.

“Victor and Yuri said… said that you yelled and were covered in blood when they found you— and you were mumbling something. Yuuri, what happened?”

Yuuri doesn’t reply. His memories forbidding him entrance as he waits first in line for answers that stay out of light.

What’s worse is that Minami and Fujiwara were seriously injured. They were fighting a known evil right in front of them while he went off. He could have helped them, should have stayed with the team instead of following that noise.

Phichit exhales, his shoulders sag and his weary eyes close, his usually well-kept hair stray at different angles from his consistent fretting.

“You shouldn’t have taken the job.”

Yuuri shifts uneased on the side of the bed. He knows that now. However, with this being such an unexpected result of his decision, why would he have given pause because of this possibility? Every mission has the ability to become destined for suicide, thinking about it wouldn’t have changed what he thought.

“It was not your fault for those peoples’ deaths.” Phichit gulps, “They defended you, yes. But they also defended everyone else who fights in those competitions.”

A hand is set softly on Yuuri’s hand, where it lay unmoving on the off-white thin sheet, permanent stains of faded red and yellow nestled near Phichit’s show of compassion. “You did not cause it. You shouldn’t be working yourself so hard that you end up doing a job that requires you to take those drugs.”

Yuuri shakes his head, “I know that, Phichit.”

“Then, why—”

“I don’t blame myself for them.” He interrupts, “If I’m part of the problem, then okay.” The grip on his hand tightens, but he doesn’t stop in his defense of his actions, “But what really puts me off is – what happens after them?”

Yuuri looks at Phichit in time to see his eyes widen incredulously before his eyebrows scrunch together a second afterwards. “Yuuri, what.”

It’s not a question.

“They defended us and were killed. What’s stopping them from attacking one of us next? Even if we have these demon contracts we still—”

“They wouldn’t go that far.”

He should stop, but he pushes further, “How do you know, Phichit?”

Phichit pulls his hand away, slowly, like the cautious retreat from a rabid animal.

“I think you need some rest.” Phichit doesn’t look him in the eyes when he says this, doesn’t speak after that, and suddenly Yuuri wishes he never spoke his worries.

Phichit doesn’t visit the hospital again.

Once or twice Victor and Yuri checked on him. Yuuko tried to scold him for taking the pills but ended up crying before she had to excuse herself. Mari made it her self-appointed duty to stay by his bedside until the hospital discharged him.

With the demon contract making him heal faster than normal, and the few major wounds impairing him only mildly, it only took a few days until he could feel the right side of his body again, and the ache in his head finally subsided enough for him to lie of its absence convincingly.

Finally, he slowly integrated back into his schedule, as if nothing happened.

He dodged the usual hours, favoring the outside courtyard where the veil of snow still clung to the small sprouting of grass and softening mud patches. It’s freezing and makes his muscles ache trying to move past his shivering, but once his body starts to work itself up he is able to move with ease and dexterity.

His weekly visits with Mari have continued, though with longer intervals in between.

She was as unapproving of the drug consumption as Yuuko, though her method of guilt tripping was passive aggressive at best and hurt far greater than a slap ever could.

He can still remember their last conversation, Mari subduing into solemn acceptance as he told her that he has yet to remedy the conflict with his teammates or Phichit. She looked so defeated, and it burned him with self-hatred, something that fueled his aggression as he stabbed at one of the training dummies.

The sad excuses for targets are all lined up, most of them covered with the remnants of frost, as they wait for a warmer season. The one standing in front of Yuuri looks worse for ware, wood cracking where the elements and his sword have beaten it relentlessly. 

He lost track of his emotions about half an hour ago, when he unraveled all the walls surrounding his heart and released all the pent-up aggravations and annoyances.

“You should move on to the next one.”

Yuuri jumps a little in the air, turning swiftly with his sword raised where he was about to strike again. Yuri stands not far away, nearer to the still fountain in the middle of the courtyard. His arms are crossed as he glares, assessing Yuuri like he’s a dog unable to understand his own anger.  Yuri’s not so different from the last time Yuuri saw him, though his glare seems to hold less of a bite.

“It’ll chip if you keep attacking it like it’s a vampire’s face. Useless.” Yuri drops his arms to his sides as he walks closer, unsheathing his swords on the way before he takes up the spot in front of the dummy closest to Yuuri, a few feet away. He doesn’t speak anymore as he swings and plunges his dual sabers at the wooden stand, light white flakes of frost flinging off of it with each assault.

Yuuri hesitates, waiting in case Yuri makes another comment, but he doesn’t. So Yuuri turns back to his own dummy and continues, though more carefully, sealing his walls back up.

The following days proceed like that; Yuri joining him in his outdoor training sessions with barely a word spoken between them. The few times they do speak is for constructive criticism (if one can call Yuri yelling his judgments that). At one point they started to implement sparring into their time, and then slowly their small comments turn into something akin to a conversation, involving ideas of a next technique they could use for better battles against an equally armed foe.

It was on a colder day than usual that Yuri was there first, and instead of holding his swords, which were resting against each of his hips in their sheaths, he carried two steaming cups in his gloves hands, before thrusting one of them towards Yuuri and mumbling about how “contracts can’t do anything if it’s not an injury or disease.”  

The side of the cup held the logo from a small café in the city, one on the way from the apartments to the army establishment. Yuuri remembered the young Russian favored that shop more than the others.

Rather than drawing attention to Yuri’s form of awareness of both of their wellbeing’s, Yuuri only smiled and said a small form of gratitude. They seemed to become closer after that, a camaraderie of toleration. Yuri didn’t seem as angry with him, as though his past aggressions regarding winning in competitions were fainter, not as all consuming. However, he does show his competitive nature during their sessions.

And, even if it’s unconventional, Yuuri had something to look forward to, something that didn’t make him feel ashamed and want to avoid everything.

 

* * *

 

 

Yuuri rushes along the hallways as he tries to slide his jacket sleeves over his arms. He had fallen asleep at Mari’s apartment the night before, completely worn out after yesterday’s late-night patrol, that he stopped at her place instead of suffering the journey to the barracks. He had completely forgotten that Yuri wanted to try some new move with him early the next day, so that’s why he’s here—flying through the building already awake before the sun has fully risen.

He had planned to drop by at Yuri and Victor’s apartment so he could walk the way with Yuri, maybe uncomfortably bid Victor good morning, but Mari had stopped him on the way out and told him they moved into the barracks after their last mission.

Yuuri was shocked of the revelation, however, he wasn’t able to dwell on it before he grabbed his jacket and escaped through the door.

He should have realized that they would have moved out, but he can’t even be mad about not knowing. He was the one that cut himself away from them (yet again) and didn’t even talk to anyone other than Mari long enough to find out.

Yuuri skids to a halt in one hallway in particular, grabbing the doorframe for leverage before he slams his shoulder into the wall from the extra momentum, and grateful that the door was open so he wouldn’t make any more commotion having to open the door. The room is loud enough that his groan of brief pain goes unheard, everyone too involved in Celestino’s commands as he booms instructions towards their improvement.  He keeps himself mostly hidden, peeking around into the room and glancing around, not taking note of unrecognized people as he looks for someone specifically.

There are no signs of admirable dexterity or the exploding charisma that he’s looking for. A sharp disappointment pushes his shoulders down in resignation. Not today.

Someone taps his sunken shoulder, and instantly he’s on guard, turning around swiftly and smacking his back into the wall he was standing beside with a rush of breath. His eyes widen in both shock and guilt, caught in his search by the very person he was looking for.

“V-victor!” He stutters, quickly glancing around to make sure no one is close to bear witness to his shame. No one—except of course the only person he didn’t want to know anything about his daily ease droppings. “Good morning.”

“A good morning it is, now that I get to see you, Yuuri.” Victor easily replies, as though he has been waiting for the very chance to say such a heart stirring introduction.

Yuuri gulps. His eyes flit to the opened door, the sharp clanging of metal against metal and talking soldiers can be heard, and he wonders if he can escape before anyone else realizes he was here. _This is so embarrassing!_

‘I… thank you?”

_How is he supposed to reply to that?!_

Victor huffs a laugh at his obvious flustered state, tilting to the side to look through the back entrance into the room they stand so closely. “I think we’re safe. No need to worry.”

Yuuri pauses, watching a small smile play on Victor’s lips. He isn’t quite used to people besides his closest friends caring about his unease around the audience of people, he supposes he has to get used to the very fact that Victor is acting as one such person to him now.

“Thank you.” He says completely sincerely this time, exhaling the sudden stress that arose from being found out before looking up at Victor with a calm he never knew he could have with this particular man. Perhaps their previous exchanges meant more to him than he would let himself believe.

“How are you, Victor?”

He gains a shrug in response, Victor’s platinum bangs act as a curtain when he looks away, obscuring his expressive eyes, “Wonderful.”

 _An obvious lie_ , though his voice is as cheerful as ever before, so the conflicting expressions catch with uncertainty as Yuuri tries to think of a response to that.

“I… heard that you and Yuri moved to the barracks.”

Victor laughs, and the somber display of his body seems to blend away to match the confidence of his words. “It’s more or less the same as how it was in Russia, nothing really different in that way.”  

“O-oh.”

Yuuri lowers his head, a sudden need to disappear from this conversation drowning all the possible calm he could have been experiencing. He knows that no matter what Victor might say, that the transfer was hard. Victor could easily leave the apartment and just walk into the city, enjoy the wonders of Japan he spoke so highly about and just… _be._

It might have been different for Yuuri because he spent years isolating himself away from others, but Victor… Victor is more… _alive_. Living instead of surviving— And to just let go of that freedom only to return to a place similar to the one he always used to speak distantly about…

 _It’s partially my fault_ , Yuuri harshly thinks, staring off across the hallway and toward the direction of the courtyard, where Yuri is probably already waiting for him.

He was the one that blacked out for taking the drugs, the reason that the mission turned into a complete failure, and the reason that when they returned, everyone became harsher towards them for it.

People got too angry, less subdued to their presence, and Victor was forced from his place in the city because of it.

It’s his fault Victor has to experience this sadness he is trying to hide behind smiles and laughter.

“Victor…” Yuuri fidgets his hands, grasping them together in front of him and then stuffing them into his jacket’s pockets.  “I’m sorry for what happened.” He rushes, “I should have been more careful—”

“Yuuri.” Victor calms, his voice laced with something Yuuri compares to Yuuko’s placating fondness when he hasn’t talked to her for weeks. “You’ve apologized so many times since the mission. There’s no reason for you to in the first place, it was an accident. I’m just sorry that I couldn’t protect you, with me being a _champion…_ and all.” His voice slows with the finishing of his words, as though his mind has been consumed with the same guiltiness that has been eating at Yuuri since it happened.

“You didn’t need to protect me.” Yuuri comments immediately, his hand lifts from his pocket, stopping momentarily in contemplative hesitation before he tells himself it’s okay, it’s fine, and he sets his hand onto Victor’s arm, hoping that it’s not too much, considering the only physical contact between them has been an accident or initiated by Victor.

“We fight alongside each other, okay?” He says, mirroring some of the very first words Victor himself said as their first proper-ish form of greeting, all that time ago. Has it really only been more than a month?

Victor’s mouth parts in what Yuuri guesses is a stunning version of shock. He’s beautiful, it’s undeniable. So, before Yuuri can feel shame for his actions, he pulls his hand away and quickly returns it to his pocket.

“Would you, um, Yuuri…” Victor stutters. He never thought Victor could even become flustered. “Would you join me to another late session?”

Yuuri thinks back to when they did that, a complete accident, brought upon by an unintentional clashing of loneliness. He has sealed that night away as one that would be considered a dream, far away from his perceptible reality, but then again, his reality already contains the real Victor Nikiforov, already stretched far beyond any dream he ever had, and inexplicably better, in a strange, twisted way.

“I would love to.”

 

* * *

 

 

There’s a vulnerability to trying to learn something new – to fail and then try again until the motions become second nature.

When his own self-contempt was the only voice he confided in for his insecurities, Yuuri never trained new things in front of others. Every time he did and made a mistake, he was asked if he wanted to give up countless times, to abandon his training before he made the contract with a demon and sealed his fate to the government forever.  That was how he learned that people didn’t believe in his abilities. They saw how shy he was, and maybe that was the reason they thought he wouldn’t last an hour outside the walls’ protection.

So, with the words of fellow soldiers in training and his old instructor dictating his already low self-esteem, he made every effort available to hide most of his faults. It became normal for him to exceedingly practice in secret— to only show the best parts of himself for judgement.

In a way, it was easier to receive praise for doing something he worked hard for, than to witness the quick progression of pity and doubt before he ever got to finish.

But, for some unnatural reason to him, it seemed easy to let his defenses ease around Victor.

Maybe it was his status as the strongest in the new world, someone who Yuuri has looked up to for years. Or maybe it’s because, when he does slip up, Victor doesn’t look at him with shattering expectations, but instead with a patient understanding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't know how I feel about this one, but I've just had it written for a while and figured I should just post it. Also, changing ideas about how to continue this, plus over due assignments, Y~ay.  
> Probably going to be a while until the next update.  
> RIP


	8. A Soldier's Obligation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo

The clinking of glass cups and amiable chatter fills Yuuko’s little antique shop. Some of the more mobile displays from the middle of the room have been rolled to the side, opening up the warn, dark maple floor for the small group to be able to move more freely, the warm light overhead hangs carefully above as they reside against stands holding old weapons and some sit in or lean on the lone couch that rests against a wall in a front corner of the shop.

The get together was on account of Yuuko’s “big news” in which she at last got the go ahead to take residence in the small shop and living space juxtaposed to her own shop. The previous occupants, a couple expecting, and their remaining siblings, apparently were good acquaintances with the Nishigoris, and knew that Takeshi and Yuuko were soldiers before they quit to have a quiet life with their triplets. They were neutral in the debates of whether to get rid of the competitions, and left weeks ago, having decided to get away from all the riots taking place, try to start fresh.

It was a pleasant reminder for all of them that there were still people that might not have taken the path of being a soldier but were still sympathetic to their circumstances. Which of course turned the subject of conversation to many dark rumors regarding the riots and the murders, their voices lowering to accommodate the somber undertones.

“Can you really believe they think a soldier is doing this?” Yuuko slurs, tilting to her left as she points at the couch, where Yuuri and Victor are seated, Minami is on the arm of Yuuri’s side, leaning against the back to keep himself up.

Yuri leans against the glass case against the wall. Mari is lying on the floor in front of the couch, her beer sloshing in her drink as she moves it in swaying motions next to her.

They all have been drinking the alcohol Mari brought, borrowed from her workplace that has surprisingly, for everyone, (except Yuuko) been working out. Though, after her taking a few days’ worth for this sudden celebration, who knows how long that will still be the case.

Phichit didn’t come.

Yuuri takes a careful sip of his drink, the glass still mostly filled as it has barely been touched. He prefers not to feel the buzz, always has been a lightweight, and doesn’t really want to lose his composure in front of everyone tonight.

The idea that people have started blaming the soldiers for the deaths is not surprising to him. Actually, he was expecting it, more surprised that they didn’t start earlier, but that’s because of the city’s suspicions of them already than logic. Because, why would the army kill people when they have been making groups to protect those same people from those that are hellbent on tearing them apart?

Yuuri hasn’t said anything about this before, and he has no intention to say anything now.

Mari hums on the floor by his feet while Minami laughs uncomfortably beside him, before saying, “A little.”

Yuuko huffs at the admission, turning her head up in defiance, “I think it’s ridiculous, I mean yeah we—you, what I used to be and what you are now--” Takeshi tries to calm her down, sat in the chair to her side. His worried murmurs go unheard. “—Are killers, in a sense, but those are—are _things_ —not _people_! It’s not the same! We’re doing it for protection!”

Yuuri is immensely glad that the triplets are next door, hopefully asleep (though he doubts it) as Yuuko reaches for the bottle on the table in the middle of their little group, refilling her cup with loose limbs.

“As if it matters to civilians.” Yuri sharply states. When the group turns to face him, he huffs at their apparent stupidity. “They live within walls. Other people fight their battles for them. They get to sit and be complacent while we have to train day in and day out. They’re stupid—but what else is new.”

“And another thing!” Yuuko shouts, as though Yuri’s comment never took place. Yuri rolls his eyes.

Beside him, Yuuri feels Victor shift, the arm against his own drawing taut, but he ignores that for reasons he doesn’t indulge in. “These groups are aaall—” she sweeps her full cup around with a flourish “just angry for no reason—not anymore! It’s been _months_ since the tournament, what more could they _want?”_  

Yuuri swishes the liquid in his glass, staring pensively at its movements as everyone makes different noises of discomfort. He sighs, his hand stilling, “I was thinking about joining the night patrols inside the city.” So much for not saying anything.

It’s a little over a mumble, as though he would be fine with it being lost from their recognition, but Yuuko has other ideas, as she shouts a disturbed “what?!”

“Yuuri-san?” Minami questions in his own shock, his usual distance of admiration forgotten as he looks at him.

Yuuri smiles, hiding his nerves at having revealed such a thought, “It wouldn’t be that dangerous, just to keep an eye out for any future dangers.”

“Don’t they have people specifically for that?” Mari looks at him from the floor, having sat up when his words became cohesive, her hand is tightly gripping her glass, as though she is barely keeping herself from breaking it.

The city is the most dangerous place within the walls these past months, especially at night, when a human playing reaper has been prowling.

He laughs without amusement, a sigh of self-conscious uncertainty, “Yeah, but not much is happening during the night for me anyway…” He pretends he doesn’t feel the way Victor tenses besides him again. Of course, he’s lying, but in all honesty, he’s been thinking about this for weeks, and if their night sessions become every other night thing, he thinks it’s worth the sacrifice. “If I can help prevent another possible attack, I don’t mind.”

They go silent. Yuuko slouches into Takeshi, defeated as she sips at her drink without her previous energy. Mari leans back on the floor, sighing as her drink sits forgotten beside her. And Victor and Minami seem uncharacteristically quiet, as if they have no idea how to respond to this sudden information drop.

Yuri is the only one that doesn’t seem put off from the topic, a thoughtful expression on his face. Wisdom beyond his years reflects in his downcast eyes, flashing determinately before, “I’m doing it too.”

“Yuri--!”

“Shut it, old man.” He barks, setting his own cup on the table before he reclines against a weapon case, a sigh leaving his lips, “If we can’t make people trust us, I have no problem showing them just how wrong they are.”

Yuuri doesn’t quite know how to ease the tension everyone seems to be teetering on, never was one for being the negator of bad circumstances, but he feels inclined to intervene. He started this after all. “During those nights I can keep watch around here and Mari’s apartment, it shouldn’t be too much of an inconvenience to ask the supervisor that much.”

“Hah!” Takeshi yells, breaking through the cloud that everyone was stewing in, “as if you could get away from us that easily, I will personally demand your protection from the higher ups.” He rubs Yuuko’s leg, a soothing motion that seems to take an effect.

“Mm, you better, Yuuri-kun, or I won’t forgive you!”

He laughs, thankful for Takeshi, “Of course.”

 

* * *

 

The night is young, a cool clarity that eases the day’s worries, it soaks into his muscles and causes a deep sigh to leave him, taking most of his tension away.  Yuuri stands off the side of the side walk, against the wall of a shop that emits the alluring scent of sugar and dough. He wears normal everyday clothes: a light jacket as the weather is becoming warmer, but enough so that he doesn’t have to worry about the night’s chill, plain jeans and his jogging shoes, just in case he has to do some running, instead of his combat boots, as not to draw attention.  Then again, if he was going for inconspicuous, he shouldn’t have his sword resting against his hip, a comfortable weight that helps his mind calm as he looks around at the passing citizens.

No one pays attention to him, at least, not for long. Most are speed walking to their destinations, heads hung and arms tight against their forms, fear rippling off them as though their subdued behavior could ward away any lurking harm.

Yuuri wishes it was that easy.

The lights across the street dims to black, a mindless trigger that makes him push himself off the wall and start his trudge down the sidewalk, looking around for anything that might stand out as suspicious.

He has to admit, he had grown used to going into his room at the barracks, only to come out at a certain time in order to join Victor in sparring matches and discussions of techniques, that to be out in the city, it felt different. Instead of just running away, pretending that what he knew was happening was a dream, it brought with it an awareness that spreads his perception and extends his other senses remarkably.

It reminds him of when he’s out on a mission, the earlier days when he was a nervous wreck, hellbent on proving that he could be more than just a shy little boy. He doesn’t know how long it will last, but he decides that for however long, he wants to enjoy it.

A whiff of beef and steamed rice hits his nose, making him suddenly wish he ate instead of just having a bite of fruit. He makes a note for future patrols.

“Yuuri?”

He pauses in his step, recognizing the voice immediately. He turns halfway, just incase he might need to continue his trek away from the other if need be.

“Phichit.”

His (friend?) sudden companion smiles, an anxiousness that shows itself in the way his shoulders raise a little too high, how his smile twitches uncomfortably as if it doesn’t want to be there. He still looks the same all together, dark circles a shade darker, but it could be the trick of the light. His attire is much more in tune with the people passing, a thin scarf wrapped tightly around his neck and his jacket nearly swallowing him, though his pants are the ones with those ridiculous premade cuts—Yuuri never saw the point, definitely not now.

“How have you been?” Yuuri asks politely, not hiding his own discomfort when he shoves his hands in his pockets and refuses eye contact. It may have been a while since they last talked, a bitterness that he doesn’t know how to sweeten, but his question still holds genuine concern.

Phichit sighs, as though understanding the space their relationship has between them is not so easily thinned, “I’m sorry for my outburst, Yuuri.” Yuuri doesn’t respond but meets his eyes. “It was wrong of me to deny you your worries, I just…” His words fade away, a thoughtful twinge shrouding his eyes as he bites his lip.

Yuuri tilts his head in silent contemplation, trying to gauge how far Phichit will explain. He knows that the conversation in the hospital is one of the main reasons for both their distance, however, he also knows that there were other topics lying beneath, building for a long time until their disagreement exploded all their feigned ignorance.

Phichit sighs again, “I realized something, that day. And I guess I didn’t want to believe it.”

When he pauses again, Yuuri hums, sharing that he is listening but won’t interrupt unless Phichit so demands.

“Yuuri…” He huffs, forcing the words out of himself, “You have admired Victor for years, even before we met.” Yuuri nods in acknowledgment, interested as to where this subject is leading. “And, I guess I ignored just how far you would go to show how much.”

“What?”

Phichit looks away, “I had this crush on you for a while, and I figured that you were just oblivious—”

“Heh?”

He laughs at how shocked Yuuri genuinely looks, “Then I realized that you might have been completely dense, but the main thing was just that…you already have somebody in your heart.”

Yuuri searches Phichit for a signal that all this was just a joke, a prank, but all he’s met with is a deep sense of sincerity. And for the first time, Yuuri sees Phichit. Sweet, best friend Phichit who has been with him for years, standing by his side and supporting him when nobody else would, even when Yuuko and Mari were starting to question his strength. He feels this sharp blow through his chest, as though a punch has been delivered to his very heart.

“Phichit, I’m so—”

“Nu-uh,” Phichit intervenes, shaking a single finger in his face to command his silence, as an adult would a child, “No apologizes. All is forgiven, there’s nothing to say sorry for anyways.”

“Maybe, but—”

Phichit hugs him, a sudden wrap of his arms around his upper arms, holding them down from anymore gestures, and buries his head in Yuuri’s shoulder. Yuuri stands shocked, not having expected it, but slowly, he settles his hands on Phichit’s back and returns the hold.

The tenseness in Phichit’s back releases, having been there ever since their relationship went on a standstill, seen in random passes in the barracks or near Yuuko’s, his grip around Yuuri grows tighter. “I’m going to go ahead and say that we’re friends again, if that’s alright.”

Yuuri snorts, “Of course, no question.”

“Good.”

Their hug takes on a sway from side to side before they let each other go gradually. It’s only then that Yuuri seems to remember a certain part of Phichit’s speech, “Wait, what did you mean there’s already someone in my heart?”

Phichit laughs at the truly perplexed look Yuuri shoots at him. Instead of explaining, he wraps his arm around a flabbergasted Yuuri and joins him on his patrol, poking fun at his obliviousness to other people’s feelings and apparently his own.

 

* * *

 

The morning is just blooming; people chatter about what they did last night, what they might do later when all their tedious training is dealt with. Yuuri is one of the few who are stretching, preparing loyally to the day ahead, silent. Ever since the patrols began, the early morning practices with Yuri have stopped, instead condensed into the lunch breaks and moments in between changing training practices. All of their time staying awake deep into the night and getting only a few hours of sleep made waking up before the sun rose unbearable.

The clock in the main hall is just about to tick to eight when a loud yell rumbles through the building.

Yuuri’s head shoots up from where he was in mid butterfly stretch, tilting to try and see what the commotion is about as his fellow soldiers crowd where the sound came from.

He only sees a glimpse of one of the main government officials, her black falling loose on her shoulders, her pristine suite making her the epitome of formality, before she is gone, shrouded in the cluster of confusion.

“Settle down!” A booming male voice demands. Everyone in the area hushes, a wave of submission following those two words.

Yuuri stands up from his place on the floor, hands worrying his water bottle as he watches the woman and a few men walk up the stairs to look over the crowd from the balcony, an assertion of their status and the importance of the oncoming discussion.

The man that commanded just moments before stands closer to the railing, his hands clutched behind him as his weary eyes scan the crowd. His hair is cut short and spiky, scars and wrinkles scattered over his face, his brows seem to be in perpetual annoyance.

Yuuri looks for a familiar face in the mass of soldiers, but only finds Fujiwara standing with other soldiers closer to his age. He believes he sees Celestino walk into the room before the man on the balcony speaks.

“We have been told that the murders have not been dealt with,” His tone is low, a tinge of contempt breaking through his already hard exterior. Yuuri wonders if it’s for the subject or for all those that are standing below him. The silence that rains down is sharp, the man makes an irritated noise in the back of his throat at the weight of it. “Apparently your superiors have neglected to inform you; this killer will be caught before any more damage can be done, that’s a direct order from the Emperor of Japan.”

A grave wave of trepidation passes through them all. Yuuri finds himself annoyed, but more worried.

The woman places a hand on his shoulder; they share a look before she steps forward and he moves back. Her voice is light yet orders all their attention. “We have all experienced great sadness with the news of each and every death. I do not believe I need to tell you how paramount it is that we find and take down the perpetrator.” Her hand is placed on the railing before she leans forward on the bar, emphasizing her next words, her dark expression seems to freeze everyone where they stand to follow her words. “What we do know is that they are of significant strength and ability; it would be of no surprise if one of our own were the murderer—and trust us,” She glances at the doorway, a glare, where the flash of a black sweatjacket retreats out the archway, (a chill slimes its way up Yuuri’s spine) “If _any_ of you are taking part in this, there will be proper punishment.”

 

* * *

 

That night’s patrol is dreadful; Yuuri can’t find it within himself to move with the same enjoyment as usual, much less feel the need to believe in optimistic thoughts. The streets seem just as apprehensive, careful against the silent killer in their midst that has yet to make a new victim since last week, at least that’s as much as the army knows.

Yuuri slows his pace. Nothing has been explained regarding that front, and he’s wary as to what that might imply for later. Could they be building up for their next kill, picking out their next victims for a mass attack?

If so, he hopes that the army can catch him(her—them) before they can carry out that plan. And, hopefully, the imperial army won’t feel the need to make a direct appearance again. Something about them showing their faces brings an uneasy feeling to stick on the back of his neck, as though eyes are boring into him to see if he will break, if he is the one taking lives in the dark of night.

Sudden pressure against the side of his neck is applied, a gentle press, but he jumps away from it instinctually, hand landing on his sword and backing away before he sees the joyful and expressive face of Victor.

“Got you.”

“V-Victor?”

Victor’s smile grows, a teasing glint shimmering in his eyes at Yuuri’s shocked expression.  “And here I thought you could easily sense someone with dangerous intent.” His lilt takes a positively excited twinge, “You must be in deep thought.”

Yuuri still hasn’t moved from his defensive position, a statue of sudden awareness that Victor could have completely killed him if he so wanted to. “Dangerous… intent?” The sentence should have set him off, but the situation just confuses him more than anything else.

Victor loses his amused grin, though his smile remains, tender, almost. “There are many ways of being dangerous, Yuuri.” He steps closer, breaking that bubble of impromptu safety as he places his hand carefully on Yuuri’s cheek, feeling the sudden warmth grow warmer under his palm. Yuuri’s stance gains caution for whole new reason. “Someone so cute should watch out for wolves.”

Victor’s proximity lights a fire in Yuuri’s chest that he doesn’t know how to smother, so instead of facing the flames he looks away, shying back from that sudden jolt that shot from Victor’s fingertips into his skin. “I should watch where I’m thinking then.”

Victor hums in agreement, seemingly unperturbed from Yuuri’s retreat. “That you should.” He says it more like an afterthought than an actual piece of conversation, so Yuuri doesn’t push, instead focusing on balancing his heart rate with his breathing.

Yuuri doesn’t hide when he watches Victor glances over the street, assessing the situation and assuring their privacy remains appropriately justifiable to possible bystanders. His eyes hold a calculative sharpness, as though he is reading all the street in just one swipe of his eyes. His silver hair doesn’t seem to lose its shimmer in the night’s lack of light, a dimmed beam of the moon to match his star like presence. Yuuri feels an insecurity spread through his being at standing in front of someone so startling.

“Oh!” Yuuri jumps an inch at Victor’s sudden outburst, his eyes flashing in an adorable remembrance as a finger points upward to emphasize his realization. “I almost forgot.” He grins as he turns to dig into the bag resting on his hip, “I got something for you.”

Victor procures a little brown package; a faint sent of pork, rice, and a hint of toasted dough hits Yuuri nose like a gunshot, a trigger that sends his stomach in disarray of hunger. He completely forgot to bring food, as he has the past few times, only grabbing a bite before or after, always too adamant that he won’t lose focus during the patrol that he ignores his essentials.

Regardless, his consciousness scolds him into denying the kindness, “You really didn’t need to…”

Victor shakes his head, his lips concealing that hint of enjoyment as he pushes the crinkling bag into Yuuri’s ( ~~welcoming~~ ) reluctant hands as they weakly bat away the offer. “Yuuri, please.”

“Really, I don’t—"

Victor takes his hands into his own, the bag hanging precariously between two fingers. Yuuri stops his erratic movements, getting swallowed in the depths of Victor’s eyes, a persistent blue that demands compliance in the most alluring of ways.

“Yuuri,” Victor’s lips pull into an even wider smile, as though he knows something that Yuuri would love to hear but will continue to keep secret all for his own, “I don’t mind spending some money for something you want, if it means you can be happy.”

He says it as though all of Yuuri’s lack of nutrients this past week hasn’t gone unnoticed; every morning he came to train after hours of skipping dinner, skipping breakfast in favor of indulging Yuri in a few more minutes (“I have something I want to try”), all his little discreet wants for a break to be his own.

Yuuri hesitates a moment longer. Victor’s fingers gently yet securely hold his hands in place, the tips cold from the night’s insistence. Yuuri’s breath slows from his heart’s overworking, and his throat tightens from the softness that Victor shows to him.

“O-Okay…”

Victor’s eyes absolutely spark—he radiates, and all the while Yuuri has to catch his breath because he made that light flourish, he was the one that caused this beautiful star to shine just a little bit brighter from something he said—

“But…” He pretends that the momentary trepidation Victor can’t hide doesn’t make his heart leap, “next time, let me get something for you too.”

And just like he got this star to shine in anticipation, happiness, he gets to be the reason the rosier shade on his cheeks darkens from something other than the night’s chilly embrace.

“I look forward to next time then.”

 

* * *

 

The hallways twist and turn as he makes his way through, ignoring the sun stains on the wall that indicates portraits lost, the blaring light from the afternoon sky. Despite the warm brightness, the journey is dark, a mass of shadowy tendrils growing darker than usual, attempting to consume everything in its way.

He pretends that the stop in front of the official’s office is a relief, that the sinking feeling in his stomach is from anticipation. The door creaks with his entrance, the woman behind the desk unresponsive to his arrival. He stands at attention, twitchy fingers hidden behind his back as his head is raised in mock pride.

“At ease, Katsuki-kun.” The woman says, almost amused, even as her eyes show annoyance and the dangerous care of someone analyzing the demise of whoever is in range.

Yuuri bows his head, not releasing his stance. “What may I help you with Hironaka-sama?”

She hums, her dark hair brushing her cheek as she leans against her elevated fist, looking the very definition of a bored young woman instead of someone holding such an elite status, with more than half the army under only one of her hand’s puppet strings.

“I have a few questions, I hope that’s alright.” Not as though he has a choice. She sweeps her hand at the black velvet chairs across from her desk, “have a seat.”

It’s too soft a seat for such an uncomfortable woman.

“There were a few inconsistencies in your recent reports…” She starts, flipping through the pages on her desk with an uncaring hand, eyes blank as she scans the words that fly too fast to be seen properly. “Any explanation, Katsuki-kun?”

“Nothing that I can think of,” he says honestly. The last reports he submitted were of a few days ago, and the team made sure to talk it over right after; he remembers because Minami tried to flirt with the waitress at the diner they were at and accidentally spilled his drink all over their papers so they had to start from the beginning. The mission itself was nothing particularly noteworthy, just the usual of assessing the buildings closest to the walls and investigating where another team said they saw a small group of low rank vampires. The scuffle was minimal, no one was harmed (besides the other beings, but that was to be expected).

Her hand taps the file, humming again as if his answer will change with her drawing out the silence. “I’m not talking about your mission reports, Katuski-kun.” He tilts his head. “Your nightly patrols, as of recent.”

Oh. “Those were supposed to be side work, just a precaution in order to try and find the culprit behind—”

“I know that much.” She says, almost snaps. The arm holding her head up flexes, annoyance, Yuuri realizes. “What I am wondering, is why the words you’ve been using are incorrect.” She pushes the reopened papers towards him, needlessly showing him his own thoughts in its formal facade. “You say you were alone.”

“Sometimes I wasn’t.” He replies, giving in halfway.

“Would you say that most of those ‘sometimes’ were with Chulanont-kun?” She’s drawing it out. Yuuri’s fingers twitch on his lap.

“Yes—”

“You say as much.” She forces her way away from her desk, sitting back leisurely in her chair, the poise of a master lacing her body in grace. “Your reports from a few nights ago say as much, so I believe you. However, he’s not who I’m worried about.”

At her expectant look, one demanding he out himself, he bites at the bait, as unwilling as he may be, he has no choice but to play along. “Who?”

She sighs, “Nikiforov-kun has been seen on your patrols along with you. I’m wondering why you never mention him in the summaries. What is so different between Chulanont-kun and him?”

“With all due respect, Hironaka-sama, there are varying responses when Nikiforov-san is involved. I was making sure his reputation played no role in my assessments regarding what I saw on those nights.”

“So, your saying that you believe the people debating whether your reviews are trustworthy, would have been suspicious if you named Nikiforov-kun in your papers?” She’s dubious, poking at his reasoning with her sharp tongue.

Yuuri looks away from her gaze, “This conversation would seem to prove my point.”

Her eyes widen considerably from his blatant disrespect to a superior, but his words hold meaning, she can’t deny it. Her sigh is deafening, as small as it is, it expresses her discontent. “I see.”

She flicks her hand towards the door, not meeting his eyes as she goes back to the pages on her desk, “You may leave now, Katsuki-kun.”

He blinks, “That’s all?”

“I have heard everything I need to. Anything more is useless.”

Yuuri sits for another second, the click of her pen shocking him into compliance, ignoring her gaze even when it’s not on him, as though a predator is laying in wait in the shadows of her office.

“Katsuki-kun.” She calls just as he is stepping out of the reopened door. He looks back at her without the trepidation he entered with. Her writing continues to scribble when she says, “Don’t become so use to Nikiforov-kun’s presence.”

He doesn’t say a word in reply when he closes the door behind him.


End file.
